If there has ever been a British summer – with its heatwaves, bouts of flash-flooding and even a once-in-a-generation eclipse – to remind us that we are all at the mercy of huge forces beyond our control, this is it.

And now, it transpires that even the guardians at the gates, the meteorological soothsayers charged with interpreting and explaining every wandering isobar, are not immune. Because, never mind the drops of rain finally greening our grass after weeks of drought, the biggest change in the weather is happening along the BBC corridors. New director-general Matt Brittin has taken an axe to one of the organisation’s central offerings, the weather forecasts, shifting focus to digital and local reports, and away from the national bulletins that have been part of our lives since George Cowling made the first in-vision forecast in 1954.

This makes perfect sense. Brittin has been charged with saving £500 million at the same time as more and more of us reach for digital platforms to decide between a sun hat or an umbrella (just take both).

Meanwhile, weather people are the last to need reminding that all ecosystems evolve. Cowling had been a meteorologist for 15 years before he pointed to his first nimbus cloud on screen, and for decades some of our most recognisable TV faces were jobbing Met Office personnel who, it turned out, could also broadcast. They may have been unshowy experts, but stars they became: John Kettley (the subject of an unlikely 1988 chart hit) and Michael Fish were household names. More recently, when Carol Kirkwood retired from our screens in April, it was the most-read item on the BBC News website.

The new BBC director-general is taking an axe to the forecasts

Now, the imminent changes will see the closure of six national forecaster roles, with some familiar names expected to depart – which is surprising in an age where media brands are all about personality and trust, and you can’t buy their kind of recognition.

But time and tide wait for no man (or woman), and perhaps such kudos doesn’t matter when a touted 23 million people turn to the BBC weather app every week. This, though, does have its limitations. Both today’s forecast and the one for a week ahead are presented in an identical format (wind directions, sunlight and hourly temperature), even though the latter can’t possibly be as accurate as the former.

A BBC meteorologist once described to me the expanding gap over time between forecast weather and actual real-life weather, something they call the “cone of uncertainty”. The further ahead you look, the vaguer the forecast. The BBC has to offer 14 days of weather to match its rivals, but all of the models have their downsides. None of this is pointed out in a competitive market to bring us information via a device that sits in the palm of our hand.

However, it’s convenient, cheap and, above all, it’s what we want – which means it’s a metaphor for everything else. We think we’re getting the weather; instead, we’re being given the microns on the surface of what is surely the most important topic of our time. To be aware is to be prepared for what is to come. And yet we’d rather the convenience of a 20-second video or a button on an app than the effort of sitting through a two-minute human bulletin. So be it – as long as we’re prepared to weather our own cone of uncertainty.