I love rainy, stormy weather. That is, I like the way that rain patters like footsteps onto the roof, the raindrops racing each other down the window, wind howling through the trees. I really enjoy being wrapped up in some cosy clothes, eating comfort food (sticky toffee pudding and custard is a dear favourite of mine) nor sipping hot chocolate with squirty cream and mini marshmallows whilst listening to the weather outside.
In a way, I don’t mind if I get caught in the storm by accident, getting soaked through to the bone. It’s rather like that Heinz Soup advert, when the girl comes in after a horrid commute home in the storm, has a shower, changes into some pajamas, wraps up in a blanket, and heats up some soup on the hob, which warms her up a treat. I’m like the advert, except I hunt for the custard (which I STILL haven’t quite got the hang of making, it always turns into jelly to me when I make it from the powder in the microwave, might just start buying the cartons…).
I just get so inspired by stormy weather, it’s dramatic, it evokes all the senses. The smell of rained on grass, the cold wind cutting your skin like a knife, the chill on your tongue, whistling through the trees. I also adore thunder and lightning, the free light show and band night of nature performing to us humans. I remember once the teachers said when we were frightened of the thunder that it was just God moving his furniture around, or that Jesus was having a row with God about girls (I did often wonder if Jesus did ever row with God about everything, as I imagined him to be a cross teen rocker dude with a leather jacket and a big gold cross round his neck on a chain, like those rappers on television). I still imagine thunder as furniture being moved in Heaven, which does make me feel better about everything.
This is why I don’t mind storms.
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