It was sunny when I left the house - a few light clouds appeared to be peppering the horizon but I didn't think anything of it. Bag laden with salads, couscous, a rug and elderflower cordial, I headed to College Green to meet Alex and Polly. A few light speckles of rain touch me half-way down Park Street. It'll be fine.
Meet Polly and Alex - we make the sensible decision to lay the rug under a tree. Everything is laid out and drinks poured. Then it rains. We muddle on, eating quickly, but trying to ignore the increase in size of the drops falling outside the tree's reach. Then the drops permeated our canopy. Oh. Dear. We finish the food, I shiver and Polly offers her coat. (In my haste to leave the house, I stepped out in shorts, t-shirt and flip-flops.) It appears that the city's abundant tourist population is much more savvy than us natives - taking refuge or donning macs before it's too late.
We're British, we shall persevere. Until the splodges of rain are as thick and fast as beyond the tree. We have to make a decision. Cathedral or a coffee shop? Have to think quick, we're sheltering up again the trunk now. Cathedral wins as it's that bit closer. The foyer is already crowded - but it offers some shelter.
We burst out laughing, what else can be done?
Alex takes some pictures of the torrential down pour. As he does - we witness a beautiful but grotesque vision. A large lady in her late 50s comes into the foyer from the depths of the dry cathedral. She is wearing just a short pink dress which could be mistaken for a ballet tutu if she was five-years-old.
Without the slightest flinch she strides out into the rain, no quibbles.
What a woman. Brave and British. (I presume)
Five minutes later we leave tentatively. I give Polly her coat back, Alex and I walk up Park Street. As I get to the top - I put my sunglasses back on. The only real give-away that we've been through an 'ordeal' is the muddy flecks of water splashing up from my flip flops onto my ankles.
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