The rain it raineth on the just,So sayeth the late Lord Charles Synge Christopher Bowen.
And also on the unjust fella.
But chiefly on the just, because
The unjust steals the just’s umbrella.
And he is right.
Especially in Saint John, New Brunswick, where rain has been plentiful of late.
I arrived in Saint John yesterday afternoon, driving in from Moncton in rain that was reminiscent of a cow pissing on a flat rock. This, after waking up at 3:15 that morning (after a restful one-hour snooze), leaving the house at 3:50 to catch a 6:00 a.m. flight to Toronto, then cooling my heels in the airport there for almost four hours while waiting for that last two-hour flight. Throw in a one-hour time change and you’ve got the picture.
After raining like a bastard yesterday, this morning’s light drizzle was almost pleasant.
Me, I find the temperature here - it’s in the low fifties to mid-sixties during the day, dipping down to the low fifties at night - positively bracing after the sweatbath of late-spring Atlanta.
And I’m looking forward to visiting some friends while I’m here, and introducing them to some of the Finer Elements of Jawja Cuisine.