London needs rain. London exists on the presumption that rain will come. Today, the streets were bathed in water for the first time in weeks, and I exulted. My walk to work was no longer an all-out assault on my olfactory senses. Oh, sure, there were the normal refuse smells of last night’s human indulgence all through Soho, bust somehow they were less pungent, less aggressive in finding a way up your nose into your brain.
London needs rain, just as we all need a good wash once a day. Rain is London’s shower, nature’s own hygiene routine to make up for the inadequacies of London’s street cleaners.
Just over a year ago, One Woman and I were in Barcelona, and the one thing that impressed us was the dedication and speed with which the street cleaning teams worked. Barcelona is hot and dry. It doesn’t have the rain to wash away the detritus of humanity’s urban existence. The good people of that city have no choice.
London needs its rain.
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