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As a child, some of my best memories are of times when it rained. Oh how fascinated I was by rainfall! Especially the torrential battering rainfall of West Africa which beat down furiously on everything for hours! There was a delightful sense of climactic anticipation associated with rain. The waiting and guessing game — will it rain? Or is it just a fluke cloud which will pass and leave our skies mercilessly sunny again? What will I be doing when the first raindrops hit? How long will it rain for? It was delicious, this waiting. And then when the rain did fall, it slowly petered out at the end, giving you ample time to compete your enjoyment and not just stopping abruptly and leaving you feeling robbed.
This past weekend I have had the privilege of staying in an area where it rains substantially heavier than what I have become used to in the past few years since moving to London. Furthermore, the roofing of the building is the kind which accentuates rather than swallows up the sound of the raindrops pattering down. In the bathroom this morning, I found myself wondering just like I did as a child, “Will it rain today?” However, that happy thought was immediately clustered around by less happy thoughts of what I would spend the rain-time doing. I had planned to spend the day indoors anyway, so my options were limited. I thought of maximising sleep-time by snoozing to the relaxing ASMR-like sound and…
