It rained all day yesterday. And I don’t mean miserable, half-arsed drizzle, but proper full-blown tipping it down rain. This morning when I woke up around 7.30 I was nudged into consciousness by the rain pattering on my window. Didn’t the weather forecast say that today was supposed to be a bit better?
I had inititally planned to go into town yesterday to pick up a couple of things, but once I saw just how heavily it was raining when I got out of bed, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. I’m not exactly keen on going outside to just get rained on today, either. My trusted weather site is claiming that there’s going to be ‘a bit of rain this morning’, and I’m just looking out the window and thinking, this isn’t ‘a bit’, mate.
We’ve been really lucky with the weather recently. The news was reporting a few days ago that the past April had been the driest one since records began. At the beginning of last week we got into the high teens (!), and I was actually on the beach in nothing more than a T-shirt and cardigan on Wednesday! It was on Thursday that the weather decided to turn. I had to go to the Royal Mail sorting office to pick up a parcel I’d missed from being at the beach on Wednesday, and decided to call into the Free Books store as it was just down the road from there. As I was browsing around, the heavens opened. The rain was hammering down on the building’s metal roof. It was quite an alarming sound! By the time I’d chosen my three books for the day, the cloudburst had moved on, even though it did start raining lightly when I was about halfway home. Luckily for me, I always carry an umbrella in my bag, it was a habit that I had a hard time shifting even in Italy, but some people got caught out. At a crossroads not far from my house, I was amused at the sight of two very contrasting outfits – a woman in a denim dress, bare legs and flip flops; and another in a heavy raincoat. To me, it perfectly summed up the British mentality towards the weather; the contrast between what we should really be wearing, and the Welsh and British mentality of rushing to wear flip flops, dresses and shorts once we get the slightest bit of sun.
I don’t mind the rain, I mean, I’m Welsh, rain is in our blood. I’d much rather prefer it to the searing heat of the Italian summer, where you sweat pints just from sitting down and not moving even a milimetre. Yesterday I actually spent most of the afternoon reading (hopefully I’m getting back into the groove!), and it felt very cosy to be tucked up in the warmth inside, with the wind and rain lashing outside. We’ll see what today brings. I’m trying to get out of the house every day, even if it’s just for a 15 minute walk around the block; it does me good having a break from staring at the same four walls all day every day. After doing this every day last week except for Saturday, I’m already starting to feel a little bit stir crazy. But for now, I’m going to carry on watching the raindrops racing down my window, and listen to the soft pattering of the water against the windowpane.