Walked into town today and had to wait up for sometime at Sainsbury's while a heavy rainstorm passed over.
Standing under the outside canopy, I chatted as you do, with shoppers contemplating a trolley dash to their parked cars. I made friends with a waiting dog who found my foot a comforting source of warmth for his shivering wet backside. I was entertained by the Sainsbury trolley "herdsman" who was positively wallowing in the rain and rather like a conjuror producing flowers would surprise shoppers with his folding umbrella.
I endured the secondhand cigarette fumes from the odd puffer, who to be fair would have found it difficult to smoke in the rain! And I listened to the mindnumbing repetitive jingle of the Fireman Sam kiddie's ride.
I think it was the second of these annoyances that made me think that getting rainsoaked wasn't so bad!
And besides, I had seen numerous young people walking past who were happily wet through. They do it all the time don't they. You see them going to school in the pouring rain, seemingly oblivious to the soaking they're getting. I'd always thought it was a mind set thing. A bit of anarchy mixed with the self-belief of walking on hot coals.....or water.
That's for me I thought! Anarchic self-belief!
I was off. Initially at a bit of a jog, until the achilles played up. Then at a brisk walk, albeit a bit erratic because the achilles were quite painful now. 100 yards or so later and after a few strange looks from beneath the umbrellas of passing teenagers, I stopped briefly in a bus shelter. I had to stop. I couldn't see as rain ran into my eyes.
No turning back though and no point waiting either. Over the road, avoiding eye contact with passing strangers in their so sensible rainwear, I strut out ignoring the pain in my achilles.
Fortunately there are no more onlookers to worry about. Who'd be out on a day like this?
Then a car hoots and clearing my eyes of water I can see it's my daughters. Great! They're waving. I wave back. They don't wave again! No... looks like your on your own here matey!! Into the park. And there it was. The ultimate test of immaturity. A huge great puddle! Now I'm beyond caring. Straight through the middle. No looking for the shallow bits, this was foot slapping Gene Kelly at his best.
50 yards from home, a passer-by, with unknowing irony, offers to share his golf umbrella and does look somewhat relieved when I decline with thanks.
Then a final sprint up the street...just in case any neighbours see me, and in through the front door. So I'm breathless, aching and of course very wet...but I'm home.
Now I have to say I shall take my umbrella with me the next time I hoof it into town , but walking in the rain apart.. I won't let a bit of temporary discomfort or curious glances from onlookers ever stop me doing anything!
Standing under the outside canopy, I chatted as you do, with shoppers contemplating a trolley dash to their parked cars. I made friends with a waiting dog who found my foot a comforting source of warmth for his shivering wet backside. I was entertained by the Sainsbury trolley "herdsman" who was positively wallowing in the rain and rather like a conjuror producing flowers would surprise shoppers with his folding umbrella.
I endured the secondhand cigarette fumes from the odd puffer, who to be fair would have found it difficult to smoke in the rain! And I listened to the mindnumbing repetitive jingle of the Fireman Sam kiddie's ride.
I think it was the second of these annoyances that made me think that getting rainsoaked wasn't so bad!
And besides, I had seen numerous young people walking past who were happily wet through. They do it all the time don't they. You see them going to school in the pouring rain, seemingly oblivious to the soaking they're getting. I'd always thought it was a mind set thing. A bit of anarchy mixed with the self-belief of walking on hot coals.....or water.
That's for me I thought! Anarchic self-belief!
I was off. Initially at a bit of a jog, until the achilles played up. Then at a brisk walk, albeit a bit erratic because the achilles were quite painful now. 100 yards or so later and after a few strange looks from beneath the umbrellas of passing teenagers, I stopped briefly in a bus shelter. I had to stop. I couldn't see as rain ran into my eyes.
No turning back though and no point waiting either. Over the road, avoiding eye contact with passing strangers in their so sensible rainwear, I strut out ignoring the pain in my achilles.
Fortunately there are no more onlookers to worry about. Who'd be out on a day like this?
Then a car hoots and clearing my eyes of water I can see it's my daughters. Great! They're waving. I wave back. They don't wave again! No... looks like your on your own here matey!! Into the park. And there it was. The ultimate test of immaturity. A huge great puddle! Now I'm beyond caring. Straight through the middle. No looking for the shallow bits, this was foot slapping Gene Kelly at his best.
50 yards from home, a passer-by, with unknowing irony, offers to share his golf umbrella and does look somewhat relieved when I decline with thanks.
Then a final sprint up the street...just in case any neighbours see me, and in through the front door. So I'm breathless, aching and of course very wet...but I'm home.
Now I have to say I shall take my umbrella with me the next time I hoof it into town , but walking in the rain apart.. I won't let a bit of temporary discomfort or curious glances from onlookers ever stop me doing anything!
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