Yes, Virginia, It Does Rain in London!!!!

Mostly, rain has been my friend. I LOVE to sleep in the rain. I love the sound of the rain on the roof – especially a metal one. Usually, I don’t get tired of rain and don’t complain about it. If rain helps cool things off, I especially love it, because I do so quickly tire of hot weather. But today, rain was not my friend. I really shouldn’t complain because yesterday I set out afoot on a great long journey to investigate some neighborhoods where I might like to live. It had rained yesterday morning, so my e.s.p. was telling me it probably wouldn’t rain again, especially since it was so sunshiny and bright outside my window. So I set out sans umbrella. HOWEVER, the heavens were not aligned with my e.s.p., and it did rain or at least drizzled. I said a little prayer asking not to get sopping wet and the Lord said unto me, “Well, you’re still new in London, so I’m going to let you slide on this one, but, girl, you gotta keep that umbrella strapped to ya like a six shooter.”
Nevertheless, this afternoon after work, after having noticed tiny gentle rain marks on the train window, I determined that my rain coat should be more than adequate for the friendly rain and chose not to dig my umbrella out from the bowels of my hefty, heavy backpack. Block one gave me a false sense of security; raincoat good. Block two, slightly less secure. Then while waiting for the pedestrian signal at a busy intersection, I dove into my backpack ferociously. But just then the sacred signal gave off its positive vibe and I HAD TO GO! Halfway across the intersection (big intersection; takes two signals to cross it) the little green walker turned red and there I stood, thoroughly soaked and soggy as a wet dog, now telling myself such stupidity didn’t deserve an umbrella, so I could just suck it up & take it like a woman.
Sliding around on my wet flippity, floppity sandals, I decided I’d just take them off & go barefoot. After all, I am still a Southerner. Sandals in hand, my first barefooted step stretched out way more than I meant for it to: slick cement sidewalk! That rain laid me out flat on my backpack. I jumped up and started off again, hopefully before anyone could see what happened. A few steps down the way I realized something was wrong. No glasses! Had to return to the scene of the slide. After a brief investigation, I realized I was too blind to locate the spectacles (no wait, I was the spectacle). Looking as lovely as a last week’s lettuce, I was reduced to asking a Londoner for help. Normally, these folks will not look you in the eye and if you try to force them to with a big smile, they avert their eyes, since, at best, smiling may be contagious, and, at worst, you may just have escaped from the looney bin with that big stupid grin on your face! Anyway, Mr. Faceless (he was tall; that’s all my nearsighted self could notice) quickly located my missing specs. After politely thanking him, off I stomped.
As I came in my apartment door, it occurred to me that I must look so pathetic, I should share the pity, so I got out my camera. First picture, too old & saggy-jawed looking. Had to take about a thousand more photos trying to get a funny, but flattering drowned rat picture. Without much photographic success, I decided that the old saggy picture was the funniest, so I’m sharing it with you as I sit here on my sore butt (backpack not big enough to cover that part) and dry out!
Other sights (than the ones for sore eyes): Pretty curb near Paddington Basin. Did you know that London has canals? Not a well known fact. And the train station, so innocent looking this morning, heckled me all the way home for not having enough sense to get in out of the rain!