Those of us of a certian age who grew up on the West coast of the UK from Glasgow, down to Liverpool, Manchester and on to Bristol grew up with rain. Lots of lovely, soft, wet, drizzly, warm rain. It has come as a bit of a shock to the system to suddenly realise than I'm now finding rain a bit of a novelty. It had been ubiquitous and predictible; a given in life.
Indeed it was part of the youth culture, so much so that you could quite literally fancy a boy based on the quality of his umbrella and his umbrella handling techniques. Every boy apart from the ones that looked like Michael Foot and wore donkey jackets (and therefore were'nt fanciable) carried an umbrella. The small but perfectly formed DA probably overcompensated for his lack of height with a magnificent, rolled, black umbrella of real class. We girls all wanted to get under it with him, even if we were several inches taller, we knew the umbrella would cope....A less good looking lad could be equally desirable if he could carry his umbrella well, unfurl it gracefully and offer you some shelter under it as you waited for a bus into town from Rusholme.
Ah the simple delights of proper rain. Not the mean rain that is accompanied by some evil little wind which makes umbrella usage so difficult and which is more common on the East coast of the UK and contributes to the completely different character of the people from the other side of the Pennines. I'm talking about the generous, gentle soaking rain straight from the Gulf Stream that gave us West coasters our identity.
To end with here is a wonderful video of Sister Rosetta Tharpe singing about the rain, in the rain, in the UK,(rather bizarely) on some "Beechinged" station to a group of revolting students (in donkey jactets). By the way did you know, Dr Beeching was a PhD Physicist, oh the shame....
I'm happy when it rains.