Dear Willemijn Hoebert,

I know that you can't do anything about it, but maybe you can explain it to me. Because there is something about the weather forecast that makes me dead nervous and possibly even more unhappy. That is the total randomness. One month I read that it will be a long, hot, and dry summer. As a result, I don't dare to take my car through the car wash anymore (not that I did that every week, but still), I look disapprovingly at people watering their gardens in broad daylight and in the sun, and I don't throw leftover tea and water from the cups into the sink, but dutifully walk to my backyard to delight the plants with it.

The next moment I see cars floating through the streets of Brabant due to intense rain showers.

Then suddenly it’s 37 degrees again and we don’t know where to look from craziness (but I understand it, because after all, a warm summer has been predicted for us) and now we are back in an extended autumn. How much rain can fall in a country? Are there world championships for that too? In the vain hope of some sunshine and a day at the beach, I injure my right thumb by scrolling 37 times a day through different weather apps in the hope of finding a meager seven somewhere. That's what I'm doing it for, really. Just when I saw hope glimmering, I see on De Telegraaf: ‘Dramatic camping weather in the Netherlands: prolonged rain on the way.’

It undoubtedly also has to do with the tendentious journalism where the headline maker knows what scores and attracts readers, but people, my mood, my huméur. Dear Willemijn, I know that even you can't change the weather, but may I ask you one thing? Can you just announce a sunny, warm, and dry period tonight? Just for the overall state of mind? Then I promise you that I won't get angry if it doesn't turn out to be true.

Image by Lidian van Megen