Rain Rain Go Away...

Us English are rather good at complaining, with it seeming to be one of our very few national talents. Indeed, our infamous “tut”, as my dictionary is telling me, was “first recorded in English in the early 16th cent.” We can tut at almost anything nowadays, but the most reliable focal point for our complaints has to be the weather. 

Never failing to come up with ammunition for our rants, British weather is a phenomenon; rain, wind, sun, warmth, chill, snow, sleet - the lot can all be experienced in one day. Not only does this provide golden tutting material, but it also opens up the doors to further points of frustration, namely, the weather forecast. The Met Office’s daily predictions on the weather might as well be done by spinning three wheels: one labelled “Area”, another “Time”, and the final one “Weather”. Obviously, for Britain you will need to spin the final wheel at least 3 times to give a wider spectrum of possible occurrences. 

Currently we are in June, and I do not know about you, but isn’t it mean to be summer outside? A few nights ago I was kept up by the drumming of the rain on the slanted windows of my room, and this got me thinking (quite an achievement). For the amount we ridicule the constant British rain, we rarely ponder its comforts. I for one cannot put any reasoning behind the comfort and relaxation I feel when being in the car in the rain, or indeed sitting in a cold room, watching the rain drip down the windows. Perhaps it is the feeling of security, stemming back to our natural selves battling against the elements (albeit sitting on a sofa with a mug of cocoa) and avoiding the punishing power of nature.  Not wanting to rob the world of this feeling, I will conclude in saying that despite its frustrating nature, the rain is always welcome to “come again another day”.