Wet Mondays – I love’m.
Even before getting out of bed this morning I felt more jaunty than my usual self. I could not understand why I was feeling so bright and breezy and so early, until I realized – it was raining. Not trickling but beating forcefully on my bedroom window and I sensed its chill.
Nothing to be happy about I hear you cry and I can quite understand that unless you live in one of the world’s arid zones, rain is not something you will get excited about; certainly not on a Monday morning. You may even be one of those cynics who believe…
The rain, it raineth on the just
And also on the unjust fella;
But chiefly on the just, because
The unjust steals the just’s umbrella*
For myself, this morning’s rain is the first sign autumn is on the way and that season, not the virgin spring or the hot bloated summer, is my favourite one. Don’t get me wrong. I am not desirous for the sensuous colours of autumn leaves of the poets. It’s the rain, drizzle, dampness and mists that make me wax lyrical.
A psychic friend told me this phenomenon – her word – is due to where one was born or lived in the accumulative years of childhood. There could be some truth in this as my Ecuadorian born wife and our three children yearn for warmer climes.
If this so it would be the Wales of my father and his forbears and the cold northern England on my maternal side which would account for my quirky longings. Rain was the essential background scenery for Snowdonia and the bygone slate quarries of Blaenau Festiniog and the dampness of Lancahire’s past, dark and satanic mills.
I no longer live in Manchester, the place of my birth but I well recall the late nineteen-fifties, when the industrial pollution still had us living under its blanket of black rain and thick grey fog. I loved even the soot stained buildings and was quite taken aback when I once returned and could not recognize the Gothic Town Hall, which had been steamed cleaned to its orignial reddish, brown colour.
This morning however, I shall happily resuscitate and unfurl my choice, black umbrella and beneath it saunter through the precipitation to my local bistro, where I shall sit on the covered terrace and observe less contented folk scurrying about their business.
My much loved waitress tells me I am the only customer she knows who is always smiling when it rains on a Monday.
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About bbryanthomas
Not so young man about town who, having witnessed and enjoyed life, is presently having fun, writing about those by-gone times and life in general.
Classic English rain lovin’ right there. 😀
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Spot on SG
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I love the rain. Makes me feel cozy and even walking in it does something wonderful. Add some thunder and lightening and I have a show to view. When my children were young I would gather them under a blanket and watch storms out on a lake. Autumn always feels like the start of a New Year for me. My favorite season which here in Ontario is so vibrant with color.
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There’s not many of who admit to liking RAIN. Pity, they don’t know what they’re missing.
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It is a pity, I find it ..I guess soothing..is one word. I find it cleansing….ah but the sun shines today here in southwestern Ontario and I will take that too!
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Congratulations to you that you’re the one smiling on a rainy Monday!! You must be doing something very right. For me, it depends – but sometimes it really is wonderful to listen to the rain outside, especially at night or when I know I’m stuck inside anyway.
Kathrin — http://mycupofenglishtea.wordpress.com
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I have just read your move to…piece. Very good. If I was moving back to England it would be a solid guide. Although, if I ever do, it’ll be up-north.I wish you lots of luck for your future. Incidently I’m ballet/dance enthusiast – from the stalls (can’t afford a box)
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Thank you so much!! I haven’t been up-north much but will definitely explore, now that I’m in the UK.
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