Saturday, November 14, 2015

Somewhere over the rainbow

It's inevitable that it will rain; somewhere.
The accuracy of weather forecasting has reached new heights in recent years. So has the propaganda surrounding its accuracy, or lack thereof. One forecaster of note emulated that weather forecasting could now claim 80% accuracy 50% of the time. That sort of maths was once the domain of accountants and car mechanics. Now, it seems, any branch of science can indulge in numerology.
Today's weather indicated, with confidence, judging by the size of the print on the notice in the hotel foyer, 90% chance of rain. I'm puzzled by this figure. Should I carry a brolly for just 9 of the 10 hours I expect to be touring the streets of Rome? Or possibly carry a smaller umbrella. And if it does rain, does that shift the percentage to 100%? It's not raining at 10am as I leave, already more that 10% of the day has passed. Does this mean it will not rain or it will rain heavier to take up the slack.
I'm worn out before I start.

By the time we reach the Colosseum the rain was officially into its 90% status. The crowds had started. 

When you've seen one Colosseum you've seem the all, really. A pile of old rocks, really. Big though, I'll give them that. You could fit a lot of Christians in here, although I'm led to believe that, in the current politically correct climate, it is favorable not to dwell on the 'lions V's Christians' side of things and focus on the sporting-community side of this cricket ground. Here I was thinking that it was sport.
The rain has reached its full 100% potential. The forecasters will be delighted. Not so the tourist. I thought the rain might drive the crowd indoors. Not so. It seems quite the opposite. This is now an opportunity for the fashionista to -ista themselves into the latest in galoshes and macks. 

My reasoning here is that rain can bring out the best in some. The brolly as an accessory has its merits.
Rain. in fact, has other benefits. The local hawkers, who seem to be from any country other than Italy, have taken it on themselves to shelter us from the rain. At every turn I am offered any assortment of wet weather gear. The disposable raincoat is a favourite. Any shade and colour of the rainbow. Maybe that is symbolic of what we are wishing for. I'd be happy with a place where I won't get my eye gauged out with a wayward spike or slip on a discarded rain coat that had reached its use by date, the life expectancy of which it less than the length of any shower of rain forecast.

I'm heading for a bus.

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