The lovers, the dreamers, and me

There are a couple of upsides to the 20-minute weather cycles you experience in London. One: If you go on an expedition to the Spitalfields Market near Whitechapel on a Saturday, but get a late start and don't arrive until after it's closed, you can go into a nearby deserted pub, order a pint of Guinness, and wait fifteen minutes until the place fills with soggy Britons. Several of these are actually Saturday afternoon pub crawlers, already drunk and guaranteed to slosh half their pint of Guinness all over themselves and some unlucky backpacker's spare set of shoes. If you're really lucky, they will then shake their dripping hands vigorously, spraying foam on innocent bystanders, while screaming "I'm bleeding Guinness!"

Two: When you exit the pub in another fifteen, twenty minutes, the sky will begin to clear. Looking back at Christ Church, you'll find a pronounced double rainbow. Now, there's something to be said for seeing a rainbow (or two) in person. Sure, they get roped in with unicorns and ponies, or leprechauns, or The Wizard of Oz, or Lisa Frank Trapper Keepers. When you see one, though, you remember why they're such a subject of fascination and awe. I think it's human nature for people to be navel-gazers, but I always welcome the reminder that while humanity is capable of creating real beauty, nature does it better.

I've seen two double rainbows this week -- one on Saturday, as just described, and one yesterday just before dusk. I think it's a good sign.