We’re having a heatwave in Britain at the moment. It’s glorious for a lot of reasons, mainly because a British heatwave normally refers to three days of sunshine and this one has gone on for weeks.
If you’re British, the weather is a constant topic of conversation and no matter whether it’s glorious sunshine or a snow storm, we love to moan about it. The heat’s great but … I don’t mean to complain but … well, don’t worry, we’re British, it’s what we do. (That and queueing).
Over the weekend the heat’s caused thunderstorms, and I mean real storms with thunder, lightning and torrential rain. I love to watch storms out my window, I have a really vivid memory of curling up with the Prisoner of Azkaban as a child and listening to the rain and gales outside. Sometimes the rain can be a magical moment.
This weekend, my friends and I went to the pub and got trapped in the car while the storm raged. We couldn’t even see through the windows because they were so obscured with water. And then it slowed down, just slow enough for us to make a break for it. We ran the twenty metres from the car to the pub, getting absolutely drenched but by the time we were inside we couldn’t stop laughing.
For some reason, when you’re running a short distance with the right people you feel like a child again. It doesn’t matter that your hair gets ruined or you clothes stick to you because it’s made you feel happy. It’s a wonderful moment and a completely innocent source of fun.
Maybe it’s due to the Hollywood experience, where dramatic scenes occur in the rain to emphatic music (you know exactly what I mean). Whatever it is, I have so many happy memories of running through the atrocious weather and it’s a simple pleasure I hope I never grow out of.
(Image sourced from http://jimmihenshite.blogspot.co.uk/2012/07/park-running-in-rain.html)