Well, that’s it.
I’ve experienced my first one of the 2019-20 autumn/winter season.
The first uncomfortable feeling of a wet sleeve as you put on a fleece you were wearing the day before.
It’s been raining a fair bit over the last couple of days and yesterday I smugly sat at home watching the rain hammer down outside and being glad that I was inside where it was warm and dry, and that I didn’t need to leave the house for anything.
And then, obviously, I ended up having to go to work for a few hours in the evening where, if nothing else, things became a lot more exciting as a woman was run over at the bus station, the police cordoned off roads and the entire town centre became gridlocked.
So in going to work I got pretty wet. And the few hours I was inside was nowhere near enough for my coat to dry. But it was afterwards, as I negotiated my way through town to a place I could be collected by Carole that I really got wet.
We decided on a spot which was not too far from work, and not too far from a car park which Carole could swing into until I was ready to go home.
I set off. She set off.
We were in perfect harmony.
I got to the assigned spot.
She did not.
Every single traffic light she had to go through – which is a lot on a relatively short run of road – was at red.
I got soaked.
Wetter than wet.
Came home, stripped off, hung everything up to dry.
My entire fleece had dried when I went to put it on this afternoon, some sixteen hours after it came home. Entirely dry. A thing of beauty.
Apart from one sleeve which had decided, for whatever reason, to retain a decent amount of yesterday’s moisture and allow me to experience that as a cold, damp feeling of dread as I slid my arm down the sleeve.
Still, at least that’s done now. We’ve got the first wet coat experience out of the way. Only six months or so and the weather will start to pick up again.