Sharing Your Weather Memories With Metcheck

March 07, 2024

4 minute read

As Mother's Day approaches, we at Metcheck have been reflecting on the cherished memories we hold dear, and understand that for many of our valued customers, this day may evoke a mix of emotions, particularly if your mother is no longer with us.

This year, we invited you to join us in remembering our loved ones by sharing your fondest memories of your mother, with a special focus on the weather moments that made them truly memorable.

Whether it was reminiscing about rainy days spent jumping in puddles, making daisy chains in the sunshine, or listening to a thunderstorm during a powercut, we wanted to hear your stories. If your mother was instrumental in passing down your love of weather watching and weather recording then even better.

For those that would rather focus on the present, we also invited you to share your weather-related stories involving your own children or grandchildren.

Your memories are precious to us, and we've been honoured to feature a selection of them, with permission, in this blog post.

Out Of The Mouth Of Babes

We had been to visit Mum and Dad in Rhyl, North Wales. Travelling eastbound on the A55, we glanced to our left (north) and noted the sea fog down in Liverpool Bay. Our eldest granddaughter, then about 4, strapped in her baby chair, asked what it was that she could see. I tried to explain in words that I thought she would understand, at the end of which she came out with "Oh, you mean it’s condensation!" Out of the mouths of babes...

Peter, Urmston.

You Don't Know What Rain Is Like!

My best weather memory from my mum, who was Welsh, was when I complained about getting damp on the journey home from school, she told me "you should think yourself lucky living in Suffolk, you don’t know what rain is like!!". She lived in Cardiff till she moved to Ipswich.

John, Ipswich.

Soggy Toes

One particularly wet rainy drive home from a static caravan holiday, I remember we stopped at a picnic spot to eat our sandwiches and stretch our legs. I was jumping in the puddles with no regard for how wet and muddy my trousers were getting. My mother didn't utter a cross word (despite already having the whole family's dirty washing in the boot from the week before!). Instead she splashed along with me and when we got back in the car, she took off her muddy hiking boots, and lay her wet socks over the car's fan heater, and put her feet up against the other one to warm up.

Nicky, Buckinghamshire.

Hot Enough To Fry An Egg

A memory of my mother, Philippa, who was born in 1931 in Derbyshire.

Our family moved to the US in 1968 with my father’s job. This presented a challenge for her with a year-old baby and two older children. It was a relocation to the unfamiliar culture and separation from her own mother and sister. However, she really enjoyed her experience of the USA. In an interview with a local paper in Indiana in the mid-western part of the States, she described herself as "a barmy English woman presently living over here...". The reason for the article was to give a description of this mildly eccentric 'Brit' recently seen frying an egg on the family's black-topped car roof in the blistering heat of the summer of 1970. She added "no one in the family would eat it... it looked horrible!". It certainly was! It captured her life-long great sense of fun and self-deprecating humour. Unfortunately she died of cancer at the age of 48 in 1980 while I was at University but we never forgot her sense of humour.

John, Perthshire.