The Long Wet Summer

It doesn’t seem that long ago that I was writing about uncomfortably hot temperatures in Beetley, and the absence of my nemesis, rain. I should have kept quiet of course, as it has been raining on and off now (mostly on) for at least ten days. Temperatures are holding at close to 19 degrees, so it isn’t cold of course. But in a roundabout way, that’s part of the problem. All my waterproof clothing, and the heavy boots and raincoats, are designed to be worn in colder weather. It just isn’t cold enough to be comfortable wearing them, so I have no option but to venture out in shorts, and my lightest zip-up coat.

This afternoon, I left the house with Ollie in pleasant temperatures. Forewarned by dull skies, I took my umbrella too, just in case. After ten minutes, I headed over to Hoe Rough, intending to make a bigger walk of it today. Then a light shower started, so I put up the umbrella, congratulating myself on having the good sense to bring it. Moments later, the rain became torrential, as the light faded to resemble early evening, rather than 1:30 in the afternoon. As I trudged on, with Ollie running ahead excitedly, it started to rain even harder, and from all directions too. The noise of it pounding the top of the umbrella was quite disconcerting in its volume.

The umbrella was beginning to seem to be redundant anyway, as I was soaked back and front, despite its promised shelter. Thirty minutes later, I could hardly keep the shoes on my feet, as they were quite literally filled with water. All my clothing was saturated, and rainwater was running down my face, driving in under the umbrella’s canopy. Now I will be the first to admit that I write a lot of posts about getting soaked by rain when out walking with Ollie. I get no pleasure from that, I do assure you. But this is August. It is supposed to be the height of the summer, when you might well expect an odd thunderstorm, but would never expect day after day of relentless rain, lasting from lunchtime until well into the night.

It’s just miserable, and feels unfair, even though I know that fairness is not a concept that can be applied to weather. The children are on school holidays, which are being ruined for them by this constant rain. The playground is deserted, the football pitch resembles a shallow pool, and all the outside attractions must be really feeling the pinch financially. My long walks with Ollie have been cut by half, as I just cannot keep walking in these downpours without becoming depressed. When I got home, I saw a weather forecast that predicted more rain for the rest of this week, and heavier rain too. I can’t honestly see how it can get much heavier. The roads are awash, and our house gutters are unable to cope as it is. But the weather man was very cheerful. Probably because he got the forecast right, for once in his life.

Before you admonish me, I know that I am supposed to be staying positive, in 2017. After eighty minutes of trudging around in a near-monsoon, I can tell you that it is very difficult to stay positive. But I will try to find the bright side of anything this year, so here goes.

Ollie didn’t care that it was raining. (That’s it.)