Irish weather: A guide for tourists

The beginning of 2013 heralds the year of The Gathering in Ireland. Thousands of tourists and members of the Irish diaspora are expected to arrive on our rainy island in the north Atlantic. But when you gather here, dear tourist, there are some things you should be aware of. If you are a non-Irish visitor in Ireland it is very important that you prepare yourself for our most popular topic of conversation: the weather. It is the mercurial nature of the Irish weather that means it is a topic which keeps on giving. If you are from continental Europe you may be used to discussing things such as art and fine food. If you are from America you may be used to discussing how happy you are. There is little room for such indulgences in the Irish conversation. While the weather is our most popular topic of conversation, the weather in itself is not popular and should only be discussed in jaundiced tones. Betrayal of merriment will be met with suspicion.

We spend great swathes of time speaking about something over which we have virtually no control. But this is our right. It is important for us to do this. The IMF controls our finances but nobody can control our weather. We comment at length on something which our interlocutor is already aware of. The weather is shared. It is not a secret to be disclosed. No matter. To point out the obvious is also our right.

Speaking about the weather is in our DNA. Our parents and grandparents do it. We are the inheritors of a strange and very Irish idiosyncrasy. Of course our British neighbours too are famously fond of weather-talk. However, while we share in our topic, we diverge in our method; our vocabulary is unique. It is the words we use that betray the most about us. And in the weather we seem to find an outlet for a peculiar Irish poetry.

A typical and polite conversation with a fellow Irishman will consist of the following:

“Damp”

“It is”

“She’s to get worse”

“She is”

“It’s fierce”

“Blustery too”

“Ah stop”

“I’m not wrong”

“You’re not”

This is a conversation, with inevitable variables, that you will need to be prepared to repeat several times a day. If you like our country and decide to remain here (The Remaining, as opposed to The Gathering), taking up a job as a taxi driver perhaps, this is a conversation you will need to repeat endlessly, perhaps fifteen times an hour during a busy spell. You may find it exhausting to begin with, but you must persevere, dear tourist. The depths of the Irish soul can be glimpsed in a diatribe about the saturation of our slopes, our moistened mountains, the iciness of our little islands, the fierceness of our fogs, the unbearable swirls of our storms and the infinite whirls of our winds.

Our immediate referral to the state of the weather is a way for us to connect with each other without becoming personal. In your country, tourist, you may ask each other about your feelings. One is advised against that here. If you find yourself in a traffic accident and need to call the emergency services, a brief prelude about the weather is advised if one wants the treatment one desires. If you begin the conversation too hastily with “Two of my passengers are seriously injured”, for example, you should expect a response such as, “Is it damp where you are?”  We build an easy rapport through an unthreatening discourse on something which is unlikely to invite any argument.

What is essential, tourist, is to never betray any sense of good fortune about the weather. We may have been Americanised in many ways, from the use of microwaves to airplanes, but allowing oneself to become happy with a sunny day is unforgiveable. Many an American tourist has been caught commenting favourably on the weather. If you do this, the Irish native will find himself at a loss when confronted with your contentment and probably move away from you. In the winter we like to complain of the cold and in the summer we give out about the heat (if it comes).

A common pitfall of the tourist is to describe the weather directly. This is an affront to the local characteristic of being indirect about everything. I would recommend the use of negatives in order to achieve this. “It’s not warm” is a popular way of describing a cold day. Conversely, “It’s not cold” is often used during the summer months. However, to say “It is cold” betrays an honesty and frankness which may concern the Irishman and will probably create a distance between you.

In Ireland we like to use female personification in order to describe things. From washing machines to cars, there is a tradition of this. “She’s bitter” is a common way of describing a cold day. This may be difficult for you to get used to. If you use this you may be anxious that people will interpret it as a slight on your wife if she is standing next to you. But worry not. We will trust that it is not your spouse who is bitter of character but the state of the weather. We have no interest in your wife, only the weather.

It is common for tourists to make the mistake of initiating interesting conversations about art and the theatre. If you say “I simply love Japanese theatre” to an Irish person, the response will inevitably be “It’s very blustery out”. At this point it is best to either engage with their line of conversation or else make a polite excuse and wander off.

There are two ways to impress your Irish hosts during your stay on the island. Firstly, we love to forecast the weather. I am not talking about relaying the television’s predictions. Rather, give your own analysis of what is in store for us. A popular phrase would be “It’s due to get worse at the weekend”. Please note the absence of any meteorological terms in this sentence. The ability to discuss the weather without using any words directly related to the weather is the highest form of eloquence in this country. If you can marry this technique with the female personification – for example, “She’s due to be fierce come Sunday” – you will be heralded as a native before long. The Normans were not described as “more Irish than the Irish themselves” because of their engagement with Irish traditions such as our native sports or our religious heritage but rather for their swift adoption of phrases to describe the weather. Their example should be an inspiration to you, tourist.

The second and most effulgent method of impressing the native islander is to use words to describe the state of the day which are not traditionally used for that purpose. The most popular example is the word “close”. In the standard British lexicon it relates to proximity. In the Irish vernacular it means “humid”. For example, the phrase “It’s very close” should be used when you are feeling uncomfortably warm. Use of this word can cause confusion. When I lived in London I took an attractive young lady for a drink in a pub. When we sat down she positioned herself next to me. To begin our conversation, of course I described the weather on that warm evening by saying “very close”. She apologised and moved to the other side of the table.

I hope you enjoy your stay in our country, tourist. But be warned, don’t enjoy it too much. The Irish like to keep general enjoyment levels quite low so as to maintain enough material to dislike. We will welcome you with open arms.

ENDS