Eva Bradley: Drizzle grizzle: I'll take a rain check

Who knew rain could be so wet? After a long, dry summer that made typical long, dry summers look amateur, this week I woke to the unfamiliar and pleasingly loud drumbeat of rain on a tin roof.

At first I was a little alarmed, wondering in my dream-like groggy state if perhaps an army of tap-dancing elves had infiltrated the roof space above my bedroom.

Eventually I recognised the sound for what it was; the return of a long-lost friend that would mend the broken hearts of local farmers and make the flowers in the front garden pull up their shoulders and stand tall again.

There is nothing quite like an absence of something to make you appreciate its return.

Last summer I spent what seemed like months on end cursing the rain that poured down on the plans of dozens of couples who'd gone to considerable length to plan out photo shoots with me that all banked on the one thing you can never bank on; good weather.

A large stack of black umbrellas stored in my boot for such occasions got steadily shabbier as the wet summer saw me become a world authority on documenting love in the pouring rain.

This year by comparison, I have not had a single day where a dark cloud has looked broody enough to prompt me to put a single umbrella into my car.

Which is absolutely fabulous ... until you really need an umbrella in your car.

This fact became blindingly obvious when I stepped out of mine this morning on my way to the studio.

And since it has been so many months since I've had even the most passing interaction with rain, I forgot how darned wet the stuff can be when you have to run through it.

Arriving at work after a short sprint, I made a drowned rat look distinctly glamorous.

Shortly after I had a visitor pop in, in much the same condition. I asked if he'd forgotten his umbrella too but he simply shrugged and said it was a choice between an umbrella or his man card and he opted for the latter.

Fortunately, my delight in the longed-for downpour outweighed the inconvenience of dripping at my desk, and in fact it was all I could do not to rush back outside and jump in the newly formed puddles on the footpath.

Once I had dried off I delighted in a day spent snugly and warm inside while outside the rain continued to pour.

We are a funny lot - liking everything in moderation, quick to complain when we have too much of one thing (rain) and not enough of another (sun) but then as soon as the balance is switched we are in the other corner of the ring booing a new opponent.

I'm determined not to do that this time. In fact I'm hoping it rains so hard and for so long that not only will the farmers be smiling but I'll make it back home tonight and be able to dive under the covers in a fluffy dressing gown and delight in being warm and dry while the rain still pounds on the roof.

And if it still keeps raining and I have to drag out the umbrellas for a wet weekend wedding, then at least it will be a novel experience for this summer, and I promise I won't complain for even a moment.

Unless it happens again next weekend. All things in moderation, right?

Eva Bradley is an award-winning columnist.