Writing is a wonderful activity. It exercises the mind, it relaxes, it excites, it makes you a better person. My favorite type of day to write is a rainy day. I love to have the window open so I can hear the wind and the rain drops, I love to hear the fall of rain across the rooftops, and hear the distant trees wave their heavy wet branches. I sit in my room, turn on the lights and type away.
It has always been this way. I was told as a child it was a European throwback, the love of cloudy wet days. I don’t know about that, I have never been to Europe.
The rainy day is a perfect excuse to stay home, comfortable and warm inside.
I watch people rush around in the street kicking puddles, pulling collars around their faces and the fearful damp patches that form across coats. I have memories of rainy days. One day as I was walking home from school I was walking past the bus stop where the school buses were picking up kids. I came to a series of puddles and I leaped them. A child from the window of one of the buses called out to me something rude, saying I was ‘chicken’ for not going through the puddle. This has stuck in my mind for so long. Personally I consider it sensible to avoid puddles but he must not. I wonder where he is now? Maybe he drowned in the flood of 2011.
It is funny how I used to listen to the put downs of others. I was told once when I was about 10 years old that a baseball cap I was wearing was stupid. I did not wear that cap again. i took it home and hid it. I found it the other day and it was in perfect near new condition and I was filled with joy. I took it and put it straight back on my head. I had formulated a new habit and that is if any one says anything bad about something I do I examine it, if I find they are right I adjust my behavior. This is usually constructive criticism, but if I find they are just being mean I do that thing harder than I ever did before.
For example at a recent high school reunion a man came up to me, (he was drunk) I was dressed neatly in a pair of grey trousers and a black wool coat. He was dressed in a pair of dirty mechanics jeans and a torn shirt. He looked at me and said;
“What are you all dressed up for, it looks like think you’re taking over the world.” He continued with a few more unkind things. After this I decided that when events came up I would dress as nicely as I could, I shall wear the best suits I own and take care of my appearance. I would not be shamed into dressing like a slob because of him. Years ago when I was younger it would have damaged my self esteem terribly, but now I become more determined.
It is raining now as I type and I am looking out the window. The sounds of the water, the soft cool breeze, the wind, the rhythmic dripping, I am relaxed. I had to go outside a minute ago and there is water in my hair, my shoulders are wet and heavy, there is water in my ears. But it is joy, it is joy.