Britain's peculiar fascination with the weather

The Barbican's Rain Room exhibition is a reminder of how the weather defines our nation’s character.

"When two Englishmen meet, their first talk is of the weather". Dr. Johnson noted this in the 18th century and yet it is still unassailably true. Despite Oscar Wilde’s famous riposte, "conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative", Britain remains a country peculiarly fascinated with the weather. This obsession seems quintessentially British, our literature is flooded with references and metaphors; one need only skim through a book of English poetry, or look at a Turner painting. However, there is something rather sentimental about it. As Richard Mabey aptly writes, despite the banality of discussions on the weather, the nice thing is that "we’re all in the weather together", it offers each of us a common narrative. Perhaps we choose this narrative because of a lack of imagination or because of an ingrained ‘stiff upper lip’ and a need for a conversation ‘safety net’. Whatever the reason, it is an ingrained part of our culture, BBC Radio 4 discovered this when they proposed cutting the late-night shipping forecast which provoked an outcry from listeners, most of whom did not actually live near the sea.

Pondering these thoughts and with a mixture of intrigue and bafflement, I headed off to see the Rain Room at the Barbican. The installation has been one of the institution's most successful exhibitions and comes to a close this weekend having opened on 4 October. The installation, created by Random International, seeks to "push people outside their comfort zones" and has certainly created a storm with queues averaging six hours. Once inside the rain room, one is confronted with what appears to be a downpour. However, when you enter as if by magic, the rain does not touch you. The installation is designed to allow viewers to interact and experience is both exciting and contemporary, the space is calming and intriguing and allows individuals to make what they will of it.

The exhibition, for me, most aptly sums up our fascination with weather and suggests that we enjoy the weather, not just as a banal piece of information, for idle chit chat, but as something that defines part of our nation’s rich character.

The Rain Room exhibition at the Barbican closes this weekend


The Rain Room exhibition at the Barbican.
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“Trembling, shaking / Oh, my heart is aching”: the EU out campaign song will give you chills

But not in a good way.

You know the story. Some old guys with vague dreams of empire want Britain to leave the European Union. They’ve been kicking up such a big fuss over the past few years that the government is letting the public decide.

And what is it that sways a largely politically indifferent electorate? Strikes hope in their hearts for a mildly less bureaucratic yet dangerously human rights-free future? An anthem, of course!

Originally by Carly You’re so Vain Simon, this is the song the Leave.EU campaign (Nigel Farage’s chosen group) has chosen. It is performed by the singer Antonia Suñer, for whom freedom from the technofederalists couldn’t come any suñer.

Here are the lyrics, of which your mole has done a close reading. But essentially it’s just nature imagery with fascist undertones and some heartburn.

"Let the river run

"Let all the dreamers

"Wake the nation.

"Come, the new Jerusalem."

Don’t use a river metaphor in anything political, unless you actively want to evoke Enoch Powell. Also, Jerusalem? That’s a bit... strong, isn’t it? Heavy connotations of being a little bit too Englandy.

"Silver cities rise,

"The morning lights,

"The streets that meet them,

"And sirens call them on

"With a song."

Sirens and streets. Doesn’t sound like a wholly un-authoritarian view of the UK’s EU-free future to me.

"It’s asking for the taking,

"Trembling, shaking,

"Oh, my heart is aching."

A reference to the elderly nature of many of the UK’s eurosceptics, perhaps?

"We’re coming to the edge,

"Running on the water,

"Coming through the fog,

"Your sons and daughters."

I feel like this is something to do with the hosepipe ban.

"We the great and small,

"Stand on a star,

"And blaze a trail of desire,

"Through the dark’ning dawn."

Everyone will have to speak this kind of English in the new Jerusalem, m'lady, oft with shorten’d words which will leave you feeling cringéd.

"It’s asking for the taking.

"Come run with me now,

"The sky is the colour of blue,

"You’ve never even seen,

"In the eyes of your lover."

I think this means: no one has ever loved anyone with the same colour eyes as the EU flag.

I'm a mole, innit.