I never heard the term ‘weather bomb’ before. Well, not until last week, seemingly we are in the middle of one. According to reports it had been drifting towards the country from late last week and now it’s landed. So that explains the extra few hours of rain at night and somewhat stormier winds.
I’m beginning to think however that weather forecasters are beginning to succumb to the need for overtly dramatic language to describe weather.
I can picture them now, gathered around a table in a conference room grumbling as to why their news room colleagues should be the ones getting all the fun with delivering depressing news.
‘We want in!’ one particularly gangly youth in a tweed jacket bangs the table with a carefully moisturized fist and the term ‘weather bomb’ is born. It worked, has the whole country running scared.
The power of words. We have to be careful, how and when we use them. You’d never know who’d be listening.
My words are choice and few. In a world of broken plastic and I don’t just mean over exposed credit cards, you want something that lasts and has permanency. The toys in these paintings were once held in deep love and to some extent they still are, despite the onslaught of the promises of Christmas.
They look beautiful hung in the right corner or wall or hall, and not a scary word in sight. Just up lifting images with promises of big smiles, thankfully unscathed by weather bombs, fictional or otherwise.
Hi, I'm Jimmy.
On this site, I share how writing and painting can provide meaning and enhance our lives.
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