Merde il Pleut

The Rain it Raineth Every Day
They walked along the promenade, always hand in hand, every day whatever the weather. But there were some days when they wondered whether, or not, they were actually barking mad. Today was one of those days, a typical November day in Penzance. A storm had blown through overnight, after which no sane person would have even thought of going for a walk. But Morwenna insisted on talking her daughter for a walk along the prom every morning come rain, shine, hail or snow. Her daughter, now ten years old, had given up protesting, having worked out that her mother took no notice whatever. So here they were, no one else in sight, in the wind, the rain almost horizontal, the waves crashing against the prom sending spray into the air and against the houses opposite. For some weird reason Morwenna loved being here when it was like this, even though the spray from each wave soaked them even further than the previous one. In these conditions the rain didn’t matter. Her daughter stoically tolerated her mother’s propensity to be out and about in all weathers, there was nothing she could do about it. She had tried everything, thrown every tantrum she could think of, over the years – nothing had worked. There was one thing she did know, and that was that as soon as she was able to fight her mum off these walks in pissing rain would very definitely stop. Morwenna was blissfully unaware of what was going on in her daughter’s head, Maybe if she took the time to listen she might have had a clue.