There’s a lot of complaining about the weather currently and I get it, it’s wet. Here in York the river is getting above itself yet again and the council has fenced off large puddles in the park for health and safety reasons, to widespread mockery. Things currently taking in water include the letterbox (yesterday the postman told me with a manic laugh that he was leaving for the Philippines), the hens, my shoes and our car, which is growing moss around the windows. On the inside.
But does it merit all the moaning? I don’t mean farmers, for whom it’s a catastrophe, flood victims or the poor folk of Cardinham, North Wyke and Astwood Bank, who endured a biblical 40 days straight of rain. They’re entitled to rend their garments and corral their pets into boats, two by two. But maybe the rest of us, just dealing with it being “quite wet”, could get a grip. When life gives you rain, make rain-ade (do not drink rain; it’s full of forever chemicals)! After all – OK, not the cheeriest thought – this could be as good as it gets in future, given accelerating climate breakdown. At the very least, these wet patches will probably happen more often, so we need coping strategies. Here are mine.
Romanticise it
Romanticising is rife – we’re constantly exhorted to bring Byronic main character energy to the most mundane corners of our lives. And it’s easy to romanticise rain: brooding sky and lashing droplets are inherently romantic! Lean in – wear something ethereal, put on some Sigur Rós and stare at it enigmatically, like an unreliable female narrator in a Netflix mystery miniseries.
Use it as a wellness hack
In 2024, the BBC explained that the negative ions created by rainfall may “help to relieve stress and even boost our energy levels”, which sounds like something an influencer holding a tiny microphone would say about a juice cleanse they’re trying to sell you, but rain is free. Add that to your gratitude journal.
Write a rain song
There are great rain songs: by Prince, Eurythmics, Garbage, Rihanna … But why not make the weather your muse and compose your own? Rain has great rhymes – bane, pain, slain, vein, arcane – we’re halfway to a 70s prog rock epic already! Also, take a moment to be grateful it isn’t raining men – we have enough of those.
Get crafty
Japanese teru teru bōzu dolls are DIY charms traditionally hung outside doors and windows to try to manifest good weather. They look really easy to make – it’s basically white tissue paper tied with red string with a face drawn on. Can’t hurt, right?
Contemplate the CPE
That’s the Carnian Pluvial Episode, when it rained for two million years. OK, it didn’t actually, but it was a period of significant global warming where it rained a lot. Way more than now. If sauropods managed two million years of the CPE, we can probably tough it out for a few more weeks.
Invent a rain ritual
We’ve been trying to ward off bad weather for millennia: one Roman anti-hail ritual involved crucifying an owl (please don’t do that). Less disturbingly, Japan’s mizudome-no-mai rain-stopping festival involves playing conch shells; Balinese rain stoppers pray, mediate and burn incense. Over to you.
Reassess your rain wardrobe
People say there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes. But what does that mean, concretely? Maybe a poncho that makes you look like a slice of watermelon or a giraffe would help? Or maybe it’s time to dance naked in the rain, per the Blue Pearl 90s dance track (maybe it’s not).
Treat the rain as an all-you-can-hear Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response (ASMR) buffet
People love tapping noises and right now, you’re enjoying unlimited tapping on your windows, without targeted ads.
Revolt
Think about water companies releasing raw sewage into waterways (181 alerts last Monday) because they haven’t invested in infrastructure to cope with the rainfall. Will it stop them declaring a drought this summer? Probably not, because they haven’t invested in infrastructure! Then think about Donald Trump triumphantly rolling back US climate change policy. Think hard, then take to the streets. Maybe also bring a brolly.
Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist
