Weather as diary, place as feeling.
Spryte Weather Diary gathers close, diaristic observations from ordinary days shaped by wind, light, cold, humidity, sleep, and season. Its best moments move quietly from a canal ride, a church breeze, or a half-remembered dream into something larger about time passing through the body.
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Spryte Weather Diary is built from short, close-range accounts of days as they are felt in the body. The weather is the anchor. Around it, the show gathers bike rides, cloud edges, canal water, visible breath, church shade, beach tides, dreams, medication, work, family rooms, and the odd little sentence overheard in passing. It is intimate without being polished flat. A speaker can start in East London, sheltering from wind near Bow Lock, and end up thinking about parakeets, spring, time off work, and the strange abundance of a free day. Another entry notices autumn through a low sunrise, moisture on windows, gutters filling with leaves, and cold air made visible on the exhale. The show trusts those details. It does not hurry them into argument. Recent episodes also travel through Colombia, where Pablo describes humidity, tides, jungle routes, village squares, breezy churches, and changing ideas of what tropical weather means. Pablo's Dream Diary shifts the same careful attention indoors, following sleep, thirst, malaria medication, remembered and forgotten dreams, and the disorientation of returning to a childhood room. The result is less like a formal weather report than a shared notebook of perception. Some entries feel like a walk. Some feel like waking up slowly. Some are funny in the way ordinary life is funny when someone is paying attention to it. There is a strong sense of place, but also a soft awareness that place is unstable: the same body reads London, Colombia, a train platform, or a borrowed bed differently. Its pleasures are seasonal and cumulative. Repetition matters here. Dates, temperatures, winds, flowers, clothes, and sleep patterns become a quiet structure for noticing change. The show will appeal most to listeners who enjoy reflective monologues, artist-led audio, field-note texture, and personal diary work that finds meaning without forcing it. It is small in scale by design. That smallness is the point.
Made for: For listeners drawn to intimate audio diaries, seasonal reflection, field recordings, and gentle first-person observation. It especially suits people who like attention paid to ordinary days rather than packaged takeaways.
What sets it apart: Most weather-adjacent audio explains conditions from a distance; Spryte Weather Diary records how they pass through daily life. Its distinctiveness is the slow movement from sensory fact to private reflection across different places and voices.
Spryte presents: Spryte Weather Diary - an audio project where people in different places send short voice notes describing how they interacted with the weather each day.For more projects from us, head over to spryte.infoWe're a low-budget, artist-led project and are funded by small donations and contributions from people like you. If you'd like to support Spryte, please check out our Patreon, or buy a tote bag!
A canal turns mirror-still, and suddenly your weather app feels emotionally underqualified.
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Short reviews from the PlayNext desk, based on the episodes we processed.
A calm weather diary that makes birds, light, and seasonal shift the main event.
Sprite Mother Diary turns a blue-skied April day into a tight, unshowy piece of place writing. It starts at Bow Lock with a bike ride, some wind, and the neat little verdict of a "day for it," then moves on to parakeets, old trees, jumper weather, and that half-settled feeling…
A weather diary where tides set the route and early March keeps spring just out of reach.
Weather gives this episode its map. In El Choco, Colombia, the host follows a southern stretch where the beach links villages and the tide decides whether anyone can walk at all.
Two wet weeks in London become a close, weather-shaped study of light, wind, and daily movement.
Two wet weeks turn a London bike commute into a small act of investigation. In TUESDAY 17TH FEBRUARY, the speaker tracks the weather through damp travel, the point when headlines about the UK's wet spell become worth checking, and the sharper awareness that comes with being back…
Apple decisions, examined down to the window corner.
Weekly film, music, and arts criticism from Monocle 24's Midori House studio in London.
The engineering decisions behind code, agents, and control.
Sprite Weather Diary’s Tuesday 21st July episode gathers weather observations from South London, East London, Sheffield, Spain, and Peckinmoy Park during repeated summer heatwaves.
Midday at Bow Lock.
The host recounts a restful night's sleep with minimal interruptions, attributing thirst to previous day drinking and briefly mentioning a forgotten dream upon waking.
Pablo shares a personal account of struggling to fall asleep due to malaria medication, describing how he watched his boyfriend sleep-talk and interacted with him.
Pablo discusses how his malaria medication initially caused intense, multiple dreams per night while in the jungle, but now the side effects have subsided, leading to fewer and vaguer dreams, which he connects to current worries about his living situation with his mother.
Pablo shares a personal account of how his malaria medication is affecting his dreams, based on his experiences in the Amazonian jungle and recent sleep patterns.
Tuesday, 31 March slips in quietly.
Sprite Weather Diary’s Tuesday 3rd March episode moves between El Chocó, London, Darug and Gundungurra Country, recording humidity, tides, seasonal change, rain, fog, and mild evening air.
Sprite Weather Diary's Tuesday 17th February entry tracks London rain, brighter mornings, and the changing feel of late winter.
A personal weather diary entry describing a hot, cloudless day in London that feels Mediterranean-like, with reflections on the consistently sunny spring and summer.
The speaker describes going on a walk to watch Wes Anderson's latest movie, 'El Esquema Fenicio,' as a distraction after a long day of work and commuting.
The host discusses recent cloudy weather in San Diego, personal struggles with winter, and mentions an arts collective residency at a cultural center.
The host describes a misty morning that turned into a beautiful day for a walk and swim at a pebbly beach, overcoming initial hesitation about the weather.
A poetic weather diary entry describing a cold, grey, and windy morning on June 4th, 2025, with reflections on perception and scale.