In floods: Colette Sheridan braves the storm for Hamnet
Going to see Hamnet or making broccoli soup were my two options on a recent Sunday afternoon. I really wanted to go to the cinema but it was lashing rain, and the thought of making comfort food seemed vaguely appealing rather than braving the elements.But I had an arrangement to meet a friend in a pub before our movie date. I tried calling AM but she didn’t pick up. Anyway, I knew that it would take a lot more than relentless rain before she’d cancel. I was hoping she’d go for the sensible option to prevent us “catching our death” outdoors but she rarely takes the safe route in life.Despite being 81, a good number of years older than me, AM has more energy than your average 40-year old. She is five-feet-nothing, is very quick on her feet (she can run for the bus while I attempt fast-walking behind her), and puts herself under pressure taking the train up to Dublin from Cork and home again later in the day so that she can go to a matinee at the Abbey.I don’t know how she does it. A poster “girl” for retirement, AM is unlikely to put her size-three feet up any time soon.READ MOREWork out: Alison Healy’s advice to those thinking of changing jobs at this time of yearTerminal Condition – the unfortunate origins of Dublin’s Townsend StreetDid ‘divine intervention’ on Merrion Street lead to a cure for leprosy?Fool’s paradise: Frank McNally on a cliche beloved of obituaristsHer life is not ruled by the weather. But we haven’t always been so weather conscious. We are spoon-fed weather warnings at a rate that we can barely keep up with. A “Status Yellow” wind warning is not such a big deal. But it has a certain amount of import and just might keep the perennially worried at home. [ Some films leave me with memories lasting for years. Hamnet will be one of thoseOpens in new window ]When I was growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, you got the weather forecast from RTÉ a couple of times in the day and it didn’t change. There were no gradations of colour, predicting the whole gamut of weather events from a mild yellow to a flaming red. The notion of a weather “event” would have seemed odd. After all, we live in a country probably best known for its poor weather, notwithstanding climate change and its occasional very hot days during the summer.Because I’m such a sucker for being ruled by the forecast, I did my usual googling of weather forecast Cork and saw that the rain was due to stop at 3.30pm. I usually find this weather source reasonably reliable so despite the rain, I ventured out at the appointed time of half an hour after three. It would have taken magic for the rain to have ceased at that time. The portents were not good; grey clouds and enveloping darkness. And the rain wasn’t going anywhere. In a spirit of optimism and faith in my weather forecast (I feel it’s personal to me), I didn’t take an umbrella with me. I just put on a hat and a rainproof coat (which actually works) and began the 20-minute walk from my home to the pub close to the Arc cinema in town. I tried to duck passing cars as they whooshed through pools, splashing me, causing a few choice expletives to be uttered to no one in particular. However, I had dark thoughts, not least because my feet were getting wet. I hate that.When I got into town, I had a few groceries to buy before meeting AM. I checked my weather forecast again and saw that it had made a change. I love that. It said that there would be light rain until 5.15pm when it would stop. And it did just that. But it was too late for me; my feet were soaked, which made me bad-tempered.AM waddled into the pub in her “rubber coat”. She buys one every year in a chain store. The weather was the last thing on her mind. When I said to her that we were mad to have ventured out when it was bucketing rain, AM said that it’s “far too early for us to be thinking like that”. She meant that we were too young to be minding ourselves when there were films and plays to go and see. Whatever about me, AM is of an age where she’d be excused for settling down with a warm drink and slippers, safely ensconced at home.They say age is just a number. In AM’s case, it seems to be true. She gets great joy out of telling people her age and seeing them register surprise. There’s a lot to be said for not acting your age. It’s all about posture and attitude – and not being beholden to the weather forecast. Wrapping oneself up in metaphorical cotton wool is no way to live. As it turned out, neither of us “caught our death” that day we went to see Hamnet. There is a scene in the film where Mrs Shakespeare is in labour with twins while her house is flooding due to heavy rain. Talk about double trouble.
