Woke up today and was greeted by the heavens opening before my very eyes. Still, this is the Netherlands so I was prepared with my ex-police water proof trousers (tres chic) and my mac in a pack for the onslaught of rain. My friend wanted to go to the shops before we headed into Uni (so didn't manage to have a cup of tea before we left) so we cycled over earlier than usual.
Just as we're locking up our bikes something occurs to me; it's Monday morning.
And, say it with me dear readers, Groningen dies for Sunday and Monday morning!
Of course it does.
So nothing is open. And now my friend is annoyed and wet. So we cycle to Uni as quickly as we can. When I describe the journey to you (full of perils, be warned) I am not exagerrating (much).
In Groningen the wind seems to not only be blowing the rain straight in your face but it also appears to be slashing at your bike sideways. The force is so immense that it either makes you drift towards the cars that drive along beside you or dangerously close to the pavement curb which, with the anorexic wheels I have on Hoj, would send me head over arse rather effectively. If you manage to hold on during this battering, the rain is the next foe to face.
It doesn't fall downwards.
It whips at you from (seemingly) all directions. But it particularly likes smacking you around the face for a bit. Now, as an avid glasses wearer, this was especially menacing for me. Anyone with an optical affliction will sympathise, I'm sure. Not only am I blinking owlishly every few seconds but my glasses are slowly becoming useless because of the amount of rain they seem to be attracting. Then, as if blurred vision isn't bad enough, the glass starts fogging up.
It's like being stuck in quick sand; it's slow, painfully obvious what's going to happen and there's nothing you can do about it. The more you swipe and struggle the quicker your situation deteriorates.
Eventually I had to take them off completely and just follow the weave and wobble of my friend's bicycle wheel in front of me.
To make matters worse, when I arrive I realise I have not applied waterproof mascara and now resemble Alice Cooper; The Transvestite Years.
Wonderful.
I also discovered that, whilst I had assumed my mac in a pack would be waterproof (name kind of hinted that it might be) it is, in fact, not. Not at all. My arms, chest, stomach and all the areas in between were completely soaked. But, thanks to my ex-police trousers my bottom half remained perfectly dry. Huzzah!
Sat through my four hours of lectures and then went to buy a REAL raincoat. One that might man up to the fearsome weather of the Netherlands.
Of course, by the time I exited the shop and cycled home it was no longer raining.
But, then again, we all knew that's what would happen anyway, didn't we? Who wants to take bets that tomorrow it's bright sunshine?
&&Fin
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