Skip to main content

Ducks at Martinmas

 I should have written this yesterday but yesterday turned out to be a bit pants and I ended up watching the third in the series of Bridget Jones films instead. But a bit of retrospect never hurts so here I am ready with some Martinmas drivel, albeit a day late.

Yesterday, 11th November, was Martinmas. And, according to the following rhymes, one can predict what the weather will be at Christmas based on what the ducks do (be-do-be-do) on Martinmas. Given the parlous state of official weather forecasting in this country, I view this poetic method just as valuable and probably as accurate as the whole ‘scientific’ attempts by the Meteorological Office and, even worse, the BBC who clearly base their forecasts on the state of a piece of seaweed and a pine cone. 

Here we go, then. A Christmas weather forecast according to St Martin, patron saint of beggars, drunkards and the poor:

“If ducks do slide at Martinmas

At Christmas they will swim

                                                              If ducks do swim at Martinmas

                                                               At Christmas they will slide.”

Or, if you prefer, this version:

                                                    “Ice before Martinmas enough to bear a duck

                                                       The rest of Winter is sure to be but muck.”

Now, when I took Nell out for her walk yesterday, we went to a farm and, as it happened, we saw a couple of ducks. They were on a pond and when they saw us approach, they took off up into the air with far more a-quacking and a-hoo ha than I thought was strictly necessary. Also, the farm walk was full of mud and muck, and wasn’t hugely pleasant for it either. The sun was shining though, and the sky was a striking blue, and even better there was no one else around which suited my introvert hermitism very well indeed. Definitely no ice enough to bear the weight of a duck, though. Not a dot of ice was in sight.

Therefore, I predict, based on very precise data analysis involving ducks, that come Christmas we are in for frost, ice and maybe a bit of snow. I’m happy with this because I am fed up now with all the rain, mizzle, mud, muck, sludge, fog and general dampness of air. And I’m living in a part of England that’s not had it too bad (thank you, Cheshire gap effect!).

It’s raining again now. Fortunately, I took Nell out for her walk before it arrived so she only got wet up to her arm pits and leg pits, thanks to the residual wetness and mud on our route. I have no specific plans for today because of my residual low mood from yesterday but I’m mid-way through a Giles Brandreth autobiography so might crack on with that because it is a very entertaining read. 

Here is St Martin, helping a beggar by giving him his cloak. Not a duck in sight.



Comments

Anonymous said…
The science says it’s probably going to be a wet winter. Although they can’t entirely rule out the possibility of a sudden stratospheric warming which, paradoxically, means there could be a cold snap. Like you I’m inclined to think nobody really knows anymore and we should just prepare for everything. Quite possibly all at once.
🦆
12 November 2023 at 19:33
Denise said…
Yesterday, the weather forecasters gave heavy rain for this area. What transpired was sporadic light drizzle. Best just to stick one’s head out of the door and see if one’s hair gets wet.
13 November 2023 at 07:36
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Frosted Dawn Enigma

The decorators are in at the moment. Stairs and landing. Given my previous history of 'Hoo Ha Occurring on Stairs ' - reference the Trapped Under the Sofa Incident and the Foot Wedged Between Bookcase and Stair Rise Debacle - I thought it wise to pay for professionals to decorate the stairs and landing rather than get myself in a mix with ladder and plank combinations and achieve the Magic Three of staircase accidents. The decorators are a father and son combo who go by the  names of Craig and David. This automatically causes me entertainment. 'Came in on a Monday, prepped, filled and undercoated, back on Thursday, first top coating, by Friday finishing touches...' Okay, not as frisky or well-scanned as the original song, but you get where I'm coming from. Anyway, before they started the job Craig asked what colour I wanted for the walls. 'Same colour as the downstairs walls, please,' said I. 'Dulux Frosted Dawn.' And then white for ...
2 comments
Read more

Day 1 - Decisions Are Made Beyond the Author's Control.

‘Well,’ I say, looking at the expectant faces gathered around the huge table in the Great Dining Hall of Much Malarkey Manor, ‘I didn’t think it was going to happen this year, but it is!’ There is a sharp intake of breath as everyone wonders of what I speak. I’ve been muttering about all sorts recently, and I’m not talking liquorice here either.   ‘The Much Malarkey Manor Annual and Traditional Christmas Story!’ I say, and wait for the expulsed air of relief to settle before I continue. ‘I thought we had done it all. I thought we had covered every Christmas story there was. I’ve been wracking my brains for a full two months now, trying to come up with something we haven’t done before and then it hit me! We haven’t done a version of one of the Great Christmas Films of Yore!’ ‘Your what?’ says Mrs Slocombe, who is more interested in the selection of pastries I have brought to this breakfast meeting, because that is what one does, isn’t it? Eat pastries at breakfast...
8 comments
Read more

Sun Puddles

A few weeks ago, I met up with a dear friend for a meditation and healing afternoon, both of us being light workers on the spirit pathway. It did me good to re-engage in a bit of focused energy channelling (because I have let my practice slip somewhat) and during the afternoon the words ‘sun puddles’ popped into my head.  Now, I know this wasn’t my human brain thinking these words because I have never heard the phrase before; when I arrived home, I looked it up and said to myself, ‘Aaah, you mean sun spots!’ This is a sun puddle... ...there! That thing that Flora is lying on. No, not the sofa - the warm patch of sunshine on the sofa. Here are Flora and Bambino sharing a sun puddle... This proves that no matter how much they scrap with each other and try to denude each other of fur all over my rugs, they secretly share a mutual and fond admiration. I think. And here is Bambino on a sun puddle that has come to rest on my legs... It’s his casual, ‘I’m so cool’ pose. Metaphorically coo...
3 comments
Read more