And the cold I’m currently doing battle with even more so. You know when you’ve been promised something (or an event has been placed before you as a highly probable outcome) and then it is unceremoniously retracted? Yanked from the realms of even vague possibility? Well, Germany (and I would go so far as to say Europe in general), has done just that with the advent of spring and its promise of warm, wonderful weather.

As a recent inhabitant of Germany, I feel quite hard done by, honestly, though I see the locals shrug without any real annoyance and go about their business while I inwardly fume at the injustice of sub-zero temperatures (just-just, though) after Easter Weekend’s glorious almost-30 degree promises of shorts and al fresco dining. This South African – and East Londoner, specifically – who has never truly considered weather to be something worth planning for (or at least, to the veriest degree), is very much miffed, I tell you!

False hope is worse, my friends, than no hope at all! I would have been quite happy to continue as we had been before the unseasonal warming, with temperatures mostly just under 10 degrees for a few more weeks – but the take-backsies are just the pits. My severely limited summer wardrobe has been unpacked on the strength of the Easter temps (unnecessarily, I might add), and that also annoys me. But the real question I am asking myself is: why am I this irritated by something that is completely outside of anyone’s control?

Perhaps due to the fact that I contracted a bug on my recent trip to Berlin (quick sidequest: it was amazing, and freezing, and I’ll dedicate my next post to that when I’m not in such a Scroogey mood). Usually, I am only annoyed by the suffering of symptoms – in this case, a constantly-burning throat and nice, juicy cough that hints at oodles of phlegm to be expectorated – taking the very philosphical view that ‘these things will happen’. However, this time, I am convinced I know exactly when I was infected, and I also know it was completely avoidable.

As I lie in bed, wheezing and avoiding swallowing my own spit (charming image, that), I think of the lovely little family on holiday from foreign climes (I won’t say where, but it was fairly obvious to everyone on the train from whence they originated), who had the barefaced cheeck to sneeze – loudly and obnoxiously – more than 30 times (my sister is my witness – I do not exaggerate) without deigning to put a hand in front of their wide-open maws.

Father-dearest was a brilliant example to all three their sniffling kids on how to flout every rule of etiquette re coughing and sneezing, and purposely turned to the rest of the passengers on the train, of whom my sister and I were, naturally, the closest recipients of their largesse, to spew his oronasal contents into the air – ‘loud and proud’, as some would say.

Now, I understand that traveling spreads germs, once you’re on a trip you can’t very well just not be, and that kids are especially vulnerable little carrriers of said beasties, yet I don’t take umbrage at the children being ill and needing to sneeze, cough, and whatever else on public transport.

HOWEVER, I do take issue with their parental units (thanks to my friend for this wonderful turn of phrase – you know who you are!) not teaching them basic manners and hygienic practice in public spaces, encouraging them to “open your mouth – get it out”, yet not showing them to do so into the fold of their arm or behind a hand. Are these methods foolproof? Definitely not. But at the very least, it would show a willingness to consider other people in their immediate vicinity.

Perhaps I still would have become ill, but I would have been able to trot out my usual ‘c’est la vie’ attitude instead of stewing in my current state of annoyance and anger – and then blaming the crappy weather for my foul mood too!

That’s my rant (and post) done. At least I know I’m relatively safe shouting into this particular void  Forgive me my bad mood – hopefully it will be sunny again by tomorrow…