My Break-up with the Weatherman

From the tender age of five, the young godmother has had a love affair with weathermen. All of them from old Mr Graeme Hart to the late Jabu Sithole. There is something strangely attractive about them. Everything from their nerdy trousers, their messy hair to their nervous nature would keep me glued in front of the television screen after every news bulletin broadcast. Another extremely attractive characteristic that drew me to them is their honesty. Besides a few minor mistakes (which is totally human), the weather-man is always right- until you get to Grahamstown.
I write this blog today with a broken heart because my love affair with the weatherman is officially over. I got to Grahamstown and he became a liar. Predictions of 25 degrees could in the blink of an eye be changed to that of 12 degrees. Clear skies meant showers. A prediction of no wind meant a gale wind so strong it could be mistaken for a tornado. After eight months of serious deliberation I have to put an end to this relationship that is now filled with lies.

If you are reading this from anywhere else in South Africa and you also have a relationship with the weatherman: STAY AWAY FROM GRAHAMSTOWN. Unless you are thrilled by the excitement of knowing you can experience all four seasons in one day do yourself a favour and remain where you are. Grahamstown has got the most unpredictable weather that I have ever experienced. Honest weathermen become liars in the face of Grahamstown weather.