This was proved wrong the first time I opened it. Not by the weather but by the umbrella's eagerness to "BREAK THE MOULD" and fly off like a bad tribute to all the merry chimney sweeps in Dick the Dyke's Mary Poppins.
Then it pissed down, out of pure schadenfreude, and I was left huddling under a tree thinking if that thing I heard at school about not huddling under trees in lightening storms was true (it is - just in case you think I'm a reliable source and I'm disputing it [we were all told a lot of lies at school]) and thinking I should have got in that taxi that my girlfriend offered me a lift in.
Then it stopped and I saw this (see below)
And it reminded me that we see a lot of rain in Northern Ireland but not a lot of rainbows. And I immediately thought about a metaphor for the troubles but didn't write it down for lack of a pen.
I'm sure it lives on in the hearts of the people, and in the wind that smashes into the side of cavehill and carries many a lowly scoutmaster sordid dreams (oo er!) but I forget it, (it was something to do with George W Bush being a total mutherfucker and like totally being a dick, dude I'm like into peace and stuff and if you're not then you can totally go hang with all the racists I'm going to defeat when they hear what I have to say about them the stoopid gang of asswipe mutherfuckers).
Anyways. I remembered that you need a lot of rain to get rainbows but also that you had to have a dick, to have dick in your mouth, and off I walked back towards town hoping that there were still some skaters at custom house square to have a laugh at (only when they fell really badly - other than that they were slam dunkin da funk).
