(there’s some rain leaving town in an hour, it’s not waiting for you, and neither am I)
It’s no secret that I’m a fan of being pissed on by the gods, but I don’t get out in the rain nearly enough these days. For most of the year, my sports were played indoors – handball, dodgeball and karate are done in gym halls, not parks – and the fact that I have headphones, not earphones, these days means I avoid walking in the rain to protect my headphones, whereas in the past I would have just worn earphones under a hood.
But today I was waiting for a thing that had already started (like a lemon) in Regent’s Park, and it was raining quite a bit; and standing there in my hoodie and tracksuit, head and legs shielded from the blunt force of the rain but not wholly immune to its sharp, cooling slickness, I realised what I was missing. I like rain, and I’d managed to avoid it for months.
Some of my best memories from when I was a kid come from sloshing across rain-drenched football pitches on Saturday mornings, before I realised I’m kinda useless at the sport I like watching the most, and building a sword out of LEGO and running into my garden to play out scenes from The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, which I’d just been given on Gamecube. Rain also reminds me of DofE, which was a bitch but great fun and very rewarding in the same way defeating a boss on the indie masterpiece Darkest Dungeon is, and trudging through the streets of Manchester on work experience, which was the first time in my life adults outside of my family treated me like an adult.
And today I was almost literally flooded with those memories; pity I’ve got trenchfoot in my left foot from a hole in my shoe I picked up in Ireland.