“Pluviophile: Noun Latin pluvia + phile = pluviophile (plural pluviophiles) 1) Any organism that thrives in conditions of heavy rainfall 2) One who loves rain, a rain-lover”
Collins Dictionary – proposed new word 2014
Have you ever watched yourself as if in a film scene? You’re there exactly as you picture yourself in your head (not the person you’re often surprised to confront in the mirror). You’re the star of your show. You’re in high definition. The shot is framed beautifully. The lighting is perfect. And in some strange way, the movie-you is more real than the real-you.
I’ve just had one of those experiences.
Serendipitous? Precipitous? Wild? Whatever!
I stepped out of the office. An ominous black cloud stretched out across most of the Eastern sky to my left, but not a drop. The air was still and warm. I glanced down at my new cream suede pumps and quickened my pace.
At Bishops Park I almost congratulated myself when … PLOP.
My warning was just one PLOP.
I fought with my umbrella in desperate panic – save the shoes, I thought!
Delighted screams came from a group of children running off the nearby tennis court.
Another glance at my shoes. For a few rushed paces I thought I could save them, but already pieces of leaves, mud and undergrowth had stuck to the suede.
In desperation I did what any self-respecting, small, blonde, Anglo-African Nyamazela from a village in the Eastern Cape would do … I whipped off my shoes and walk-trotted, sometimes-hopped and generally splashed through the torrent in my bare feet … all the way home.
The water was up to my ankles at times and strangely, refreshingly warm and tingly.
A cabby hooted and waved. A man and his small son sheltering under a tree pointed at me. Real-me looked at movie-me. AND ALL OF US LAUGHED!
What was I thinking? London roads are disgusting. Dogs poop on pavements despite the £1000 fine to owners. My shoes were already ruined. I know you’re quite disgusted with me now and I apologise if I’ve fallen from grace.
BUT, you know that scene when Gene Kelly dances in the moonlit street twirling his umbrella and singing in the rain? Today, I was Nyamazela Kelly! Sodden, out of breath, ridiculous, ecstatic, giggly, not-so graceful, oblivious.
When I reached my door, the rain stopped immediately. The show had been solely for my benefit.
I got inside, whipped off all my dripping clothes, put on my slippers and poured myself a glass of wine.
Hubby knows how much I hate getting wet – I get quite grumpy, like a cat. I LOVE rain when I’m inside and dry.
But in some, crazy, unexplainable, Nyamazela-universe, getting caught in the rain this afternoon, was probably the highlight of my day!
P.s. I think I’ve broken another umbrella.
P.p.s. Despite my fun, I still don’t understand scenes like in Four Wedding and a Funeral (1994) when Carrie (Andie Macdowell), stands at the door, declaring her love for Charles (Hugh Grant) and says: “It’s raining. I hadn’t noticed.” – COME ON WOMAN!
P.p.p.s. I relate better to the scene in Forrest Gump (also 1994) – below – when Forrest begins: “One day, it started raining.”
P.p.p.p.s. Have I mentioned that it rained 4 days and 4 nights leading up to and including our wedding day … that was, hands down, my best rainy day ever.
P.p.p.p.p.s. I welcome any advice on the sad case of how to resurrect my new suede shoes (no Elvis puns intended).