Here is a picture of the view from my window. If you look really closely you can just make out the tiny silhouette of Prague Castle on the horizon. It’s hard to make out because of all the cloud. That’s because it’s raining.
It’s been doing that a lot here recently. Not just ordinary rain, but torrential downpours with thunder so ear-poppingly loud it made me wonder if a grenade had gone off outside. We have plenty of weather in England too – sometimes our entire summer consists of two or three sunny days in August – but nothing quite like this.
In England cold and rain go together like fish and chips or milk in tea. (Yes, there should be milk in tea and no, I shouldn’t have to ask for it. Sugar is an optional addition to a nice cup of tea. Milk isn’t). In fact, this crazy Prague summer time weather means a baking, oppressive heat which lasts most of the day punctuated by a swift opening of the heavens around five or six in the evening. The water buckets down cats and dogs. There’s none of that fine spray we call drizzle or the few scattered drops that might be described by the forecasters as a light shower: it’s like monsoon season wandered north.
This is macho, no-nonsense precipitation; its mission is to soak you to the skin. If you forget to take an umbrella, there’s no hope for you. Your best plan of action is to dive into the nearest pub and drown your sorrows until the storm passes. Don’t bother asking for a mineral water unless you want to get a very dirty look from the waiter and have the others around you assume you got lost on your way to an AA meeting.
I want to go out now but it’s still raining.