Article by Nikki Harper

As a Brit, I can vouch for the fact that small talk about the weather, and in particular moaning about the rain, is indeed a national pastime. When you need to make polite conversation with someone next to you in the queue, a wry observation about how you might have to swim home if it carries on like this is a sure-fire way to oil the wheels of social niceties. Beyond the quirks of British culture, however, many people – at least those who live in climates which don’t suffer droughts – seem to genuinely dislike the rain.

A quick survey of friends, family and associates on how they feel about the rain brings up a typical cross-section of comments. “It’s so depressing.” “I hate it when it’s so grey and miserable.” “It’s just a pain, you can’t get out and enjoy the garden”. “Ugh, cold and wet. What happened to summer?” In film, TV and art as well as in real life, rain is often taken to symbolise sadness, depression, tears and foreboding. You only have to think of King Lear in the rainstorm, or Cathy staying out all night in the rain waiting for Heathcliff. Rain as a pathetic fallacy, where human emotions are ascribed to nature, seems to universally agree that rain is not a happy thing

I disagree. For as long as I can remember, I’ve adored the rain. I get bored, listless and irritated during long days of samey samey sunshine, but I feel energised and inspired when it rains. Some of my earliest memories are of grabbing a reluctant cat and going outside to sit cuddled up under an umbrella every time it poured down. Just to sit. And to be. As my fellow pluviophiles will agree, there are so many reasons to embrace the rain.

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