The rain isn't in spain

I was justly warned about UK weather, but since my arrival here in Leeds I haven't had to face more than a light drizzle; until today. I left my flat this afternoon to meet Celeste, a McMaster student on full year exchange, to help celebrate her freedom from exams. I looked out the window to gauge the weather, and determined that although it was sprinkling it was nice enough to wear my leather boots and wool coat. The UK weather that I had experienced up to this point had been damp and dreary but nowhere near the level of precipitation that I had been prepared for. I met up with Celeste at one of the Leeds student union bars called "Old Bar" where I had my first taste of cornish pasty, which is akin to travel style pot pie. The pub was packed with students heavily celebrating the end of exams. The atmosphere was one of relief, happiness, and general exuberance. After we finished up, I left to return to my flat, but as soon as I got to the door of the pub I realized that my journey home was going to be slightly soggy. The weather had taken a turn for the typical. It was now raining so hard that the cracks in the sidewalk had turned into rivers feeding into the massive puddles that engulfed the pavement. I had naively thought that the casual drizzle that we had been getting was indicative of the weather that I could expect, so I had left my raincoat, boots, and umbrella comfortably resting in my closet. As a result, by the time I got back to my flat, my leather purse was streaked with dark droplets, my coat smelled of rain, and my makeup had run down my face to the point that I resembled members of KISS.

Lesson learned: NEVER leave home without an umbrella.