So I’ve done that thing, that British thing where you set off into something less than a drizzle or even mist, more of sodden air that doesn’t realise that there’s gravity for a reason, sure, go ahead, defy it, don’t fall to the ground but condense on my glasses so I can’t see, but it’s not actually raining, you see, so you keep your umbrella in your bag, nah, no need for it.
Then it starts to drizzle, but it’s not that bad, only the odd spot or two of rain, so you duck your head and keep going. Pull up your hood time, that’s all.
Okay, now it’s getting worse, we’re talking actual drops now, and you debate digging out the brolly, but you’re already damp and about half-way to wherever you’re walking, so do you really want to have to deal with a wet brolly for the rest of the day? Something that gets everything else in your bag soggy when you stow it away, and in any case, you inevitably forget to take out to dry when you get home so it moulders slowly for weeks as an added bonus. To say nothing of the fact that it’s gone a bit gusty so it would probably be blown inside out or right from your hands, and you’d end up chasing it down the road, like you do after a toddler who doesn’t know how to look both ways. Hell no, who wants to deal with that?
So you tug your hood down lower and soldier on, and then the next thing you know, you’re soaking wet, trudging through a driving rain, literally soaked, clothes like you wore them right from the washer, hair plastered against your head, socks drenched from puddles over the top of your shoes, with your umbrella still dry and safe in your bag because you’re wet through already and almost there so it *really* doesn’t make sense to dig it out now.
And then when you get wherever you were going, and people take in your bedraggled appearance, and someone inevitably remarks, “forgot your brolly?” and you shake your head and say, “didn’t feel like getting it wet,” this earns not looks of scorn but nods of total agreement.