ENGLISH TODAY
Though something else by profession, my keen interest in the weather would make me English today.
We're having a typhoon over here.
A thunderstorm has been calculated to contain an amount of energy equivalent to 4 days' use of electricity for the whole of United States.
At any one moment, 1800 thunderstorms are in progress around the globe - some 40,000 a day.
Every second, about 100 lighting bolts hit the ground.
A typical weather front may consist of 750 million tonnes of cold air pressed against a billion tonnes of warm air. Add that to the convection currents and electric currents moving within it.
A tropical hurricane - the typhoon - can release in 24 hours, as much energy as a rich medium sized nation, like the one I have adopted today, uses in a year.
What a meteorological turmoil the sky above me must be now.
The plumbest, most cushiony-looking cloud, the same anvil shaped one that brings rain, the beautifully crisp and well defined cumulo-nimbus is number 9 in the catalogue of Atlas of Meteorology. This, it seems is the source of the expression, "to be on cloud nine".
Which is where I am today. Enjoying the gusty breeze, rasta music, down to my skinnies and bottoms and a really good book. The source of my day's humour and knowledge, Bill Bryson's A Short History of The World. I'm short of some sand, some sun and some water and a few palm trees though.
Water. What I would do for some.
A potato is 80% water. A cow, Japanese or Australian, is 74% water. A tomato at 95% water, is little else but water. And we, at 65% water are more liquid than solid by a margin ratio of almost 2:1.
It is formless. It is transaparent. Yet, how I long to be beside it even though it can give me little warmth or a snuggle.
It has no taste, yet I love to swish it in my mouth.
It has no smell, yet I get excited at the smell of rain and the sea breeze.
Even though it is dangerous and drowns 10,000 people a year, I can't wait to move to the beach.
Ten more days of teaching at this school is all. No wonder I'm feigning like I'm in some island paradise. Even my tomato juice is pretending to be a Bloody Mary.
"You call that a drink? Send it back to the bar and tell that cute bartender I want something a lot stiffer! And see if he can balance a wedge of pineapple on it with a paper umbrella. I want Tropicana with pink shorts!"
Audio: Cafe Del Mar Ibiza.
Bibio: Bill Bryson's A Short History of The World.
Cerebrio: I'm in an island paradize, where the sand is so fine I can't even feel it in my toes and where the water is so blue, I can't see even see it because of the reflection. If I put some sunblock milk instead of aromatherapy oil on the burner..."
We're having a typhoon over here.
A thunderstorm has been calculated to contain an amount of energy equivalent to 4 days' use of electricity for the whole of United States.
At any one moment, 1800 thunderstorms are in progress around the globe - some 40,000 a day.
Every second, about 100 lighting bolts hit the ground.
A typical weather front may consist of 750 million tonnes of cold air pressed against a billion tonnes of warm air. Add that to the convection currents and electric currents moving within it.
A tropical hurricane - the typhoon - can release in 24 hours, as much energy as a rich medium sized nation, like the one I have adopted today, uses in a year.
What a meteorological turmoil the sky above me must be now.
The plumbest, most cushiony-looking cloud, the same anvil shaped one that brings rain, the beautifully crisp and well defined cumulo-nimbus is number 9 in the catalogue of Atlas of Meteorology. This, it seems is the source of the expression, "to be on cloud nine".
Which is where I am today. Enjoying the gusty breeze, rasta music, down to my skinnies and bottoms and a really good book. The source of my day's humour and knowledge, Bill Bryson's A Short History of The World. I'm short of some sand, some sun and some water and a few palm trees though.
Water. What I would do for some.
A potato is 80% water. A cow, Japanese or Australian, is 74% water. A tomato at 95% water, is little else but water. And we, at 65% water are more liquid than solid by a margin ratio of almost 2:1.
It is formless. It is transaparent. Yet, how I long to be beside it even though it can give me little warmth or a snuggle.
It has no taste, yet I love to swish it in my mouth.
It has no smell, yet I get excited at the smell of rain and the sea breeze.
Even though it is dangerous and drowns 10,000 people a year, I can't wait to move to the beach.
Ten more days of teaching at this school is all. No wonder I'm feigning like I'm in some island paradise. Even my tomato juice is pretending to be a Bloody Mary.
"You call that a drink? Send it back to the bar and tell that cute bartender I want something a lot stiffer! And see if he can balance a wedge of pineapple on it with a paper umbrella. I want Tropicana with pink shorts!"
Audio: Cafe Del Mar Ibiza.
Bibio: Bill Bryson's A Short History of The World.
Cerebrio: I'm in an island paradize, where the sand is so fine I can't even feel it in my toes and where the water is so blue, I can't see even see it because of the reflection. If I put some sunblock milk instead of aromatherapy oil on the burner..."
posted by The Chilibuddy @ 4:10 pm ::
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