Il pleut

Be honest. What do you think of the French?

Me? I think they’re a nation of lovely warm-hearted people. But their language? Well, it is, in one word, namby-pamby. Here’s why.

This morning at 2:30am, to cut a long cliche short, the heavens opened. No exaggeration: this was by far the most fierce (and fearsome) rainstorm we have experienced for several years. It was like waking up inside one of those Karcher pressure washers they’re always banging on about on the shopping channel. The noise was like an Olympic-sized car park full of turbo-engined Hummers all revving up at once. Waffle Towers was battered for over a quarter of an hour as the rain lashed down without mercy. And through it all, the French language came to mind, and I finally decided what I thought about it:

The well-worn French phrase for this morning’s weather is “Il pleut”. (It’s pronounced ‘il pleut’.)

And basically, ‘Il pleut’ just doesn’t cut it. Not in this day and age. And certainly not in this weather. It is, as the French themselves might say, pathetique. 🙂

Anyway, we’ve all just about recovered by now. But tonight, we’ll be taking brollies to bed, just in case il decides to pleut all over again. Zut alors!

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