I’ve just taken the dog for a walk, and we’re both soaked! I didn’t really want to go, but she wouldn’t let up. She knows we usually go out some time between coffee and lunch time, so from the moment I put my mug down she sits on the front doormat and whines until I relent. If I walk along the hall she’s at my heels looking pointedly at my coat; if I brush past her lead, she’s there looking eager. In the end I always give in, even when it’s raining. I don’t actually mind walking in the rain, it’s so quiet and peaceful. No people, no kids shouting, the odd car splashing past. No other sounds except our footsteps and the splattering of the rain. I just don’t like coming home soaked! The dog doesn’t mind getting wet, she’s got what she wanted!
We spend a lot of time moaning about the weather in England. Too cold; too hot, too windy, too humid. The wrong kind of snow and the country grinds to a halt, heat wave while we’re working, then it rains when we’re on holiday. But actually seeing what the rest of the world has to contend with, I think we actually come off very lightly. My Australian niece was in Cairns during the recent cyclone – now that’s weather to moan about.
My father had a little rhyme which he would quote when we complained about the weather. It goes like this:
Whether the weather be cold,
Whether the weather be hot,
We’ll weather the weather,
Whatever the weather,
Whether we like it or not.