On Thursday in London it rained. I mean, it really rained. No, forget what you thought you knew about...okay I'll stop there. Everyone knows what serious rain is like. The kind of rain that actually hurts as it hits you with such speed and regularity.
Yet at the same time there's something exhilarating about such incessant, crashing rain. Something terrifying and primeval, as if reducing us again to mere dumb animals being ruled over by the arbitrary force of nature; something that in many other aspects we seem to have such control over. Or believe we do.
Of course in Britain we're lucky that our weather rarely risks our lives, unlike those in other parts of the world, so we are able to dash about madly in the rain, laughing, seeking shelter, secretly enjoying being absolutely soaked through: once you're resigned to it, you might as well embrace it.
Saying that I had an umbrella so didn't get wet at all.
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