No, I haven’t lost it, I really am about to say that sometimes, SOMETIMES, I actually like the rain. I know I go on about how much I hate it all the time, and I’m actually a tiny bit shocked I’m saying this myself, but I guess even I can sometimes appreciate a bit of a downpour.
Now, I’m not backtracking on everything I have previously said about Winter being evil and basically living for the sunshine. I stand by that. I still despise Winter with a passion and I’m pretty sure I was born on the wrong continent. The sky clouding over is generally enough to throw me into a mini pit of despair, even when I’ve been in a mostly good mood in the run up. But there are the odd days – when you have nowhere you need to be, and nothing you need to do, when you’re snuggled under a blanket with a warm drink in hand and a good book – when the rain doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, it actually helps it feel a bit like a treat, being warm and cosy indoors while it’s all wild and cold outside.
It has to be proper rain, mind. Not this half hearted, grey drizzle we mostly get in England. No. It needs to be all black clouds and rumbling thunder. I want to be able to hear the rain drumming on every available surface and barely be able to see through the water streaming down the window pain. Then, and only then, the rain feels like a friend, here to remind me how lucky I am that I have somewhere cosy to hide away from the world. It’s kind of comforting somehow.
Of course, I expect this rain to be fleeting! By the time I’m ready to venture outdoors I’d quite like it to have stopped thanks, and left everything with that fresh, new smell you only get after a thunderstorm. Ideally the sun would be on it’s way back, breaking through the dissipating clouds. Maybe there would even be a rainbow…
Guess there is no pleasing some people, hey?