“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day!”

The late Ray Bradbury (I think), once wrote a short story, based on that children’s rhyme, about the day, when, eventually,the rain did come again, forever.

I think he had a point.

A numpty in the Guardian, a couple of days ago, was extolling the virtues of  the pretty much incessant rain some of us have been experiencing! Here comes the rain: why we secretly love it when it’s wet. Caution – high crap content!

It starts with “Of all the symptoms of the decline of British civilisation, none is more poignant than the building of a retractable roof over Wimbledon’s centre court in 2009,” and goes rapidly downhill from there, claiming people don’t go for the tennis, they go to get rained on. Written with humour, it might just work, but it’s not (and if it is supposed to be humorous, then the guy is in the wrong job, and based on the comments, I’m not the only one to miss it).

Seriously, nobody with the requisite number of functioning brain cells could find anything positive in this seemingly endless rain (and, here in Wirral, it’s been raining, seemingly non-stop, for months, except for a few sunny days which, apparently, comprised summer for this year).

Rainy days I have no problem with –  it’s entire rainy sodding seasons, sloshing along remorselessly, nose to tail, that I object strenuously to – a wet winter, followed by a dismally dank and drizzly spring, and now a sopping summer. No respite from a drought and a hose-pipe ban here.

And aside from the rain, what about the goddamn temperature? Three-quarters of the way through June, and I’ve still got the heat on. And so have many other people.

I’ve lived in the north-west all my life, so rain is not exactly a novelty, but this 9 months or so has been so far off the rainfall scale we need a new scale. And the last thing I need is a turgid newspaper article telling me how great rain is!

And if you’re lucky enough to be reading this and wondering “What rain?” – THIS rain!

Some rain is, essential, of course, but incessant rain is not great, unless you’re a farmer with parched fields after a heat-wave – which we conspicuously have not had.

Rain keeps me, and other power-wheelies, trapped at home. I’d kill for a bright, sunny day, so I could put my powerchair in a cab and go and photograph wildfowl on the lake. Even if this weather broke tomorrow, it would take days, perhaps weeks, for the ground to dry out sufficiently to use my chair without it getting plastered with mud, which would thrill taxi drivers even less than it would thrill me.

There is nothing laudable about continuous rain!

Though, for a wonder, today is not yet wet – but give it time, it’ll get there.


4 thoughts on ““Rain, rain, go away, come again another day!”

  1. hmm ive just put a comment in on an MSN site where some woman is having a go at the youngsters who have left the isle of wight music festival because of the appalling muddy conditions there. she was calling them names like chicken and wheres the British stiff upper lip etc likening the conditions to those in the blitz and the trenches of ww2.least they had common sense to get outta there before they got pneumonia.wasting around £200 ticket money in doing so,i told her she has no idea what the blitz was like or being in trenches in war time.stupid woman.
    like you., im stuck in too when its so bad. did go out last saturday. rained all day. the old ruins we had gone to see were locked (only open 1st saturday in the month but we had failed to notice that being members of English herritage we didnt look at prices and opening times, silly devils)) and so we wasted around 30quidsworth of fuel. saved the day by calling at some other ruins en route back home.(it cleared up somewhat while we were there or at least it was only slight) so the day wasnt entirely a wash out,
    heres hoping we all get out again soon.its time we had some proper summer. poor olympic torch runners… they must be getting soaked. am supposed to be going to watch the exhange that takes place near me on mobday but not if its chucking it down.

    • Hmm . . . She’s rather missing the point that very few were in the trenches because they wanted to be, nor did they have the option of going home!

      Back in the day, I’d do a backpacking circuit of the Peak District every Spring – and one year it turned out like this! Now I’d happily go and camp in midwinter, in the snow, but after a week of unremitting rain and mud, I was happy to call it a day, get the bus and train from the middle of nowhere, back to Edale, get hammered in the Nag’s Head with a bunch of equally brassed-off and wet climbers, and go home.

      Same with festival-goers – the art is is knowing when to call it quits. Beyond that, it becomes stupidity.

      Supposed to be dry here til Wednesday, but almost no sun, just clouds. Oh joy . . .

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