It’s taken seven and a half years, but I think I might have reached saturation point when it comes to rain in Wales, if you see what I mean.
When I first arrived, back in 2008, it was after years of living in rain-deprived Western Australia, so it didn’t matter how much it rained – I was delighted! It was such a novelty to don my raincoat, unfurl my umbrella, and stride out into the tranquil greyness of what the weather forecast described as “heavy rain”, but to me – used to tropical downpours – it was more like persistent falling mist.
It felt gentle, soothing, and peaceful, and I loved strolling through places like Cardiff’s Bute Park, smelling the dampness of the earth and watching squirrels running for cover.
Lying in bed at night, listening to the rain on the roof, I felt very cosy and secure, a relaxing feeling.
Even when I first came to Llandysul and started going on longer walks in the countryside, replete with waterproof trousers, heavy walking boots, mittens, and a jacket zipped up to my chin, the rain didn’t bother me. It made the ground softer, the greenness of the leaves, mosses and lichens brighter and fresher, and added to the feeling of being at one with the beautiful Welsh countryside.
But I suppose everyone reaches their limit sometime. Could we have just one day sometime soon when it doesn’t rain, please?