Rain Boots in the Cathedral

and other reflections on English weather

A few weeks ago we had a period of seventeen consecutive days during which it rained every single day--often for most of the day.  The world is wet.  And yet, in all that rain, we could hardly seem to manage a respectable storm.  There were two claps of thunder on April 22, and two more rumbles on Tuesday, but really.  If it's going to rain this much, I think we at least deserve a good rousing storm.

The wellies/rain boots have been given a near-daily outing during Monsoon Season 2012, and have been worked to the point of springing a leak.  But they are mighty and shall endure.

I have been criticized for wearing my wellies into church on multiple occasions--both in Wadham Chapel where our choir sings and in Christ Church Cathedral.  While I agree that pairing sky blue fake wellies with so-called "church clothes" and an academic gown is one of the more daring fashion statements I have attempted, I would also like to remind everyone that here in the land of walking miles on cobblestone through a neverending procession of five-minute rain showers, sensible footwear is next to godliness.  Make fun of my fake wellies all you want, but at the end of the day, you will look great and be freezing, and I will look silly and have dry feet.

Today is Ascension day, which if you're an Anglican is apparently a separate event from Pentecost.  I got up this morning at the crack of dawn* and trekked down to Harris Manchester to sing a little service on top of THE TOWER.  We were given a health and safety speech ("This tower was built nine bazillion years ago and has never and will never pass any safety inspection.  If you die, you may not sue us.  Try really hard not to jump off the tower because it's not good for you.") and then crept up the teeniest, creepiest, most claustrophobic spiral staircase I've ever seen.  We sang a ten-minute service, complete with prayers and readings, for a congregation of exactly zero people--which is only slightly smaller than last Monday's congregation, when we had a choir of 7 and a congregation of 3.  We pack 'em in at Harris Manchester.  Anyway, we had a good time, and the view speaks for itself.

*I use the term "crack of dawn" here in the figurative sense.  As we creep towards summer, the sun does not, in fact, rise at any hour that I would expect to be awake for.  The other night I didn't bother to close my drapes before going to bed, because I was getting up at 7:00am.  That's pretty early, I thought.  The sun won't have been up for long, surely.  It will be fine.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up at 5:00am to blazing sunlight setting my room aglow.  Fail.  We are currently at 16 hours of daylight and climbing.  I hate my skylight more than ever.

Spring has sprung.  The grass is riz.  I wonder where the daisies is.