I am English. This has been true for all of my life and will continue to be true for the remainder. As such, I practice a brand of careful meteorological pessimism that requires me to carry about my person at all times that object which man has come to know as "the umbrella". A trusted and true part of the everyday arsenal, this handy rain-deflecting object has prevented a thorough dousing on many an occasion.
"But, Mr The Bald Fella," I have been asked, "for why do you carry an umbrella when your head is so shiny and devoid of hair-based accoutrements?"
"What a perfectly ridiculous question," reply I, in a supercilious fashion. "Just because I am of the follically-challenged amongst our society, this does not mean that I want to get a right good soaking. If anything, it's more irritating - there is no hair to retain any of the moisture so it runs straight off the bonce and into the peepers. Most vexatious."
All of which makes it doubly irritating that I managed to leave the umbrella lying dormant upon the bedroom floor this good morning and that the only moments in which the heavens chose to unleash their most fierce torrential downpour was during the ten minutes in which I was walking from the station to the front door. With a kind of tedious inevitability, as soon as I stepped inside the front door, the downward river stopped. Bloody, as they say, typical.
I better put newspaper in those shoes. They'll never dry out otherwise.
(Makes a nice counterpoint to last Monday's sunny afternoon and will no doubt prompt a "serves you bloody right" from those of you who were suffering similar weather.)
* Length of remainder may vary due to external and internal circumstances.