It’s raining! It’s pouring!

It’s raining! It’s pouring!

And I am in my “How the ‘eck can I be so thrilled at the sight of rain when I’m from Yorkshire” mood πŸ™‚ πŸ˜›

But Yorkshire was then, many moons ago.

And this is the here and now of living in the hot and dusty Indian plains…

AND THE MONSOON STARTED THIS MORNING πŸ™‚

AND IT’S BUCKETING DOWN πŸ™‚

And yes, yes, of course I’ve done all the monsoon ritual-y things, like standing outside in the pouring rain with a daft grin on my face.

And yes, yes, we have put every single parched, dusty, wilting house plant out onto the verandas so they can all get nice and soaked, and washed clean. It is actually raining so heavily that some of the plant pots are in imminent danger of being flooded, but right now, who cares?!

Wonderful as the rain is for those of us sitting cosily at home, waxing lyrical about the weather, it must be beyond hell for those poor people who live on Delhi’s mean streets…for the thousands of manual workers…for the guards, the traffic police, the delivery people…so I am always conscious of this sobering fact behind my ritual first downpour joy.

I optimistically put on my running gear after this morning’s first gentle shower, thinking it would be lovely to go run in the park, but now the heavens have opened, and it is just too wet to go run…fingers crossed for this evening.

We’ll also have all the usual nonsense of flooding, and then humidity, and then mosquitoes, and then the risk of malaria and dengue…but all of those are for a few days down the line, so for now, I’m enjoying the downpour.

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