It is a truth not acknowledged nearly half as much as it should be, that the moment you put your summer dress on, it'll rain.
Proper big thundery, drops-the-size-of-sovereigns, rain that bounces off your head, creates leaks where no self-respecting leak should be created, makes hammering noises on the ground, and fills drains within minutes. Puddles, pavement-wide, appear and the air takes on a sticky quality that no amount of forgotten-umbrella drenching clears.
"I have rarely heard such rain as there was during the meal. I am never happy when the elements go to extremes - I don't think I am frightened, but I imagine the poor countryside being battered until I end up by feeling battered myself. Rose is just the opposite - it is as if she is egging the weather on, wanting louder claps of thunder and positively encouraging forked lightening"
I am not so much of a Rose.