For the attention of the rain
Posted on
Dear rain,
I was under the impression that we had come to some kind of accord. For my part I would complain and say horrid things about the sun during the summer months. In return, you would leave me largely free of your watery wrath throughout autumn and winter. It would appear, however, that you have reneged on your part of this perfectly reasonable bargain.
Last night, for example, I was due to go out with friends for the evening. The plan was to meet a little before 10pm at a local venue in the city centre. The arrangements were made and all involved were looking forward to it. By 9pm, however, you arrived; falling from the sky in little drops of malice designed, I can only assume, to inflict frizzy hair and a charming damp smell upon my social group. This, I should point out, was after a whole day where the sun reigned supreme in its yellowy smugness and during which hardly any of us had cause to leave the shelter of those buildings in which we were passing the time. That we went on to have a thoroughly enjoyable evening (indoors) is precisely beside the point.
This past week, your behaviour has been little better while I've been at work. Although I appreciate your efforts to fall while we mortals are cooped up inside, pretending to enjoy our vocations, I am less grateful for your failure to acknowledge the key times of day when one might wish to leave said confines. As my blog website will regularly attest, my journeys to and from work are interesting enough without adding in your contributions.
It's not like I didn't do my part. This summer I went to great lengths to proclaim my dislike for the sun. And despite a couple of incidents where a dose of sunburn was virtually unavoidable, I did my best to keep away from it in protest. I remain as pale as ever. During one of our early summer rehearsals, my band even wrote a song inspired by how intolerably hot it was in the studio on that particular day. I've been very good.
There are a few dates on my calendar this month on which I would be grateful of your nonattendance. Firstly, there is the matter of my leaving do. I don't mind you showing your face on the outside of the window once my colleagues and I are safely inside the venue (albeit only for the duration of our stay), but prior to and after that, I expect you to respect our agreement. Secondly, I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to show up for the first day with my new employer looking like a drowned rat. And finally, I have a trip to London at the end of the month that I'm rather looking forward to, for various reasons. It would please me greatly if you were to abstain from dampening my mood and that of the company I keep on that day.
There may well be other occasions too. As the weather, you have been around longer than I have and should be able to use your better judgement as to when it is most appropriate to attend. Rest assured, I do appreciate your value to the planet, especially following the summer, when the parched earth is grateful of your arrival to quench its thirst. Personally, however, I have grown rather attached to being dry and not smelling like I swam through a river to get where I need to be.
Yours sincerely,
Craig Faulkner.