BIG May-Time Showers

Ah, us brits. We can’t get enough of complaining about the weather. If we’re not complaining about its current state we are definitely complaining about what it was, or what it’s going to be. “That woman from BBC said it’s going to be raining tomorrow. British weather sucks”.  It’s horrible down in Reading as the rain lords continue to change it’s mind every day and I still don’t have an umbrella- you’d think I would have learned by now, having lived for nineteen years that it’s always raining and that I always need an umbrella. I think my head is permanently stuck in Mediterranean mode where it denies that the sky is falling. 

My home-town was struck by a storm yesterday too and the statuses on Facebook about it was just like if a weather man on the news was stood out in the rain with his umbrella as he gave a live update on the awfulness of British weather. It drove me crazy. Personally I do quite like storms. One of my favourite memory consists of standing on the beach, with my friends, while a storm rolled all around us. We got soaked, but it was awesome. It’s just when it’s wet I get as moody as the sky. 

Today in Reading it had been quite nice, judging from my bedroom window. The sky was clear when I woke up. But gradually the sky got duller and duller. It was just as I thought Hey, I fancy some chocolate. Let’s go get some. That it got horrible. I put my coat on and a teeny tiny pair of pumps (luckily not the velvet ones) and decided that it was a perfect opportunity to take out some rubbish. Just as I got to the shed where we have some huge bins-things for our rubbish it chucked it down, torrentially, with rain. I was therefore hiding in the shed as the rain poured and poured among a series of half-full bins. It must have looked shady to anyone driving by. At some point the rain slowed, it didn’t stop-i’d like to add- and I decided to make a run for it while it was sort of okay, and made it to the shop. 

The thing about the rain is that somehow the people in their cars become much more ignorant to the pedestrians who don’t have their umbrellas (that or my tolerance for drivers decreases). While they themselves are in their bubble of dryness and have some sort of urgency to get home they stop caring about those in the rain. They don’t think to slow down for the HUGE upcoming puddle, or stop to let us across the road even though they’re dry and I’m getting wetter by the millisecond. I got splashed four times because of this. Now even my shoes had puddles. 

I made it to the shop just another downpour was releasing it’s wrath onto the town and hid there until it shopped. The good thing is that I got the last chocolate bar in stock (it wasn’t the last one in the shop, but the last of the one I fancied) and the rain stopped dribbling just as I was paying for it. I was walking back and the sky had totally cleared again and there was a rainbow. I still had to endure the drivers who didn’t slow down at the puddle letting my trousers get soaked, but now that I’m sat here snuggled up in bed with my chocolate and I am cozied up in my pyjamas I don’t mind having that ordeal any more. That’s the upside to British weather. 


2 thoughts on “BIG May-Time Showers

  1. We had hail today. HAIL. In June.

    The worst roadside soaking was with Boo near Kings Cross. It was literally a tidal wave covering her head-to-toe. She screamed and a man from a restaurant came out with a tea towel (not overly useful, but a nice gesture).

    Mind you, that time in the Lake District when Eve’s trousers went see-through was pretty extreme too. And that day in Dorset. At least both times then it ended in hot chocolate. Chocolate (hot or in bar form) always helps.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s