Ralph Oswick: Sun hats on, ready to do a rain dance

By the time you read this it might actually have rained! I never thought I would scour the skies on the lookout for even the tiniest of black clouds. Quite the opposite: as co-organiser of many an outdoor event, I remember sleepless nights, imagining every sound was that of rain lashing the windows, heart sinking at the thought of next day’s cancellation. There’s nothing more dispiriting than a wet gazebo. Or several dozen in the case of the huge Widcombe street parties we used to put on. We never told anyone, but we couldn’t insure those particular events against bad weather due, can you believe, to the proximity of the river. Even though it would take a monumental tsunami to get the Avon to rise that high, on the map it’s a flood plain and no insurers would even consider it. Hence our annual tenterhooks. But luckily, the sun invariably did its duty and glorious weather prevailed. Only once did the heavens open, fortuitously when we were packing the event up. But what to do with all those wet tents? Someone had the bright idea of re-erecting them in the church and turning the heating up. They looked amazing, like a steaming Kasbah! At an outdoor theatre festival in Cornwall the organisers were beside themselves. It had rained solidly for two days. Natural Theatre Company to the rescue. We donned flowing saffron robes (just happened to have some in our trunk) and giant yellow hats and performed an improvised sun dance on the muddy field. Lo, and the clouds parted, the sun came out and the crowds poured in. Were we the heroes of the day? I’d say so! I’m going to the West Indies in a few weeks’ time. Officially September is the rainy season. In my experience this means loads of greenery refreshed by the odd short sharp shower. My holiday pal, who has suffered a bit in the recent heatwave, says he’s actually looking forward to sitting on the veranda, rum in hand, watching the tropical downpour. Says he doesn’t even mind if it’s stair rods all day. Mind, it really can rod it down over there. I remember once trying to hear what the weather man had to say on the ropy television provided in our rented cottage. The noise of the rain on the tin roof completely drowned out whatever he was saying, but the map behind was covered with smiling sun symbols! And sure enough, within minutes said sun was out, the hummingbirds humming, the goats (or were they sheep?*) were gambolling, the sea was gleaming and we’d stopped moaning that we could have gone to Weston-super-mare for the same money. I’m not going to tempt fate by packing any bad weather gear. I find a banana leaf pierced by a twig of bamboo makes a perfect rain hat, as per Robinson Crusoe! *If the tail points upwards it’s a goat, if it points down it’s a sheep. But it’s all mutton to me!