The phone rang. I took a deep breath. I was about to take my first call in the editor’s chair. Could this be a Deep Throat source with information about a sensational story that would make Grocott’s Mail sell thousands more issues? Or maybe even my first reader with a complaint or compliment?
The phone rang. I took a deep breath. I was about to take my first call in the editor’s chair. Could this be a Deep Throat source with information about a sensational story that would make Grocott’s Mail sell thousands more issues? Or maybe even my first reader with a complaint or compliment?
I lifted the receiver.Grocott’s Mail, can I help you? There was a pause.Who is in charge of the weather? a booming voice on the other end of the line demanded to know.
Ahhh, this could be a chicken-and-egg question from someone at the Rhodes University’s Philosophy Department to see if I have the intellectual capacity to take on this job.
Or perhaps it’s one of Grahamstown’s many religious residents wanting to engage in a theological debate? I decided to be cautious. When you’re trying to increase a newspaper’s circulation, it’s never a good idea to alienate readers.
Uhm, can we actually say that anyone is really in charge of the weather? Is that not like saying, who is in charge of chocolate or where in the world is cyberspace?
But the caller was not impressed.Who is in charge of the weather? he thundered. Mother Nature?I replied meekly. The tone of his grunt suggested that he thought I was an idiot.
Maybe the heat is getting to you, he muttered.I measured the temperature today and it was 37 degrees Celsius. But you guys had it as 31.
You are always at least six degrees out and whenever you say there’s an 80% chance that it will rain, it doesn’t. If you tell us to be careful of heavy rains, I know it is rubbish.
It took me a while, but I eventually twigged that he was talking about our regular Weather and Tides section at the bottom of page 2, information which we receive from the South African Weather Bureau.
I started to say that we couldn’t really be held responsible for information supplied by the Weather Bureau, but ended up getting caught up in a complicated explanation about climate change and rain patterns and the greenhouse effect and global warming.
But the caller wasn’t buying any of it. He was furious. I sympathise with him. Grahamstown weather is like the Bafana Bafana squad: it blows hot and cold just about from minute to minute.
I wake up in the morning and cover myself with layers of clothes because it’s cold and raining. I brush my teeth and then find that it’s no longer a miserable day, but it’s blistering hot. As soon as I take off my heavy-duty jacket, the skies open up again.
The weather is news. And the caller made me realise that while we at the newspaper sometimes get bogged down with getting to grips with the big news of the day, like the local government elections, axed deputy president Jacob Zuma’s woes and Trevor Manuel’s Budget, sometimes our readers get more heated up about the weather.
After the caller ranted on for about 20 minutes, he eventually turned his anger from Grocott’s Mail to the SABC, with climatologist Simon Gear, who tells the nation about the weather, coming in for a lot of stick.
In fact if Simon ever shows his sunny face in Grahamstown, this irate caller could chase him out of town.
Graeme Hart used to apologise if he got it wrong. He would say sorry, and explain why he got it wrong. Simon Gear never says why he got it wrong. Never.
He keeps on saying there will be an 80% chance of rain tomorrow, but he’s always wrong. I bet you he goes and asks his students:So, guys, how many of you think it will rain in the Eastern Cape tomorrow?
Then eight out of 10 of them will put up their hands and he says, Okay, that’s 80% and then they all go and play ping-pong for the rest of the day.The sun always shines on TV, I sighed. I’ve had my own fair share of weather disappointments.
Recently I went down on my knees to beg whoever actually is in charge of the weather to send buckets of rain down under to spare our cricket team the embarrassment of being bowled out by a chubby spinner, but without success.
I made the caller a promise: I’ll do my utmost to make sure that the stories we publish are accurate. But I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about the weather. You can blame it on the weatherman if you must (sorry, Simon), but please: don’t shoot the messenger.
Ancer is Editor of Grocott’s Mail.
