Rain in Dubai, sunshine in Dunmanway
A rare view of the Dubai Skyline including the famous Burj Khalifa in a raining day.
I was in Dubai last week, and it was no different to being in Kilmichael.
Having grown sick of the rain at home, I asked my missus to pack her bags.
Soon we were off.
With a bit of money in my pocket, I booked two tickets to Dubai.
Finally, we were heading someplace where the sun always shines.
"It never rains in Dubai!" I boasted.
Having recently viewed the classic film 'Laurence of Arabia,' we set sail to Dubai, full of hope.
Peter O'Toole never saw a shower, and neither would I.
Well, lo and behold, as soon as we touched down, on came the rain clouds from Ireland.
"Ye bought the rain with ye," this wise old fellow said as he took our plane tickets.
And sure enough, as soon we went outdoors into the fresh air, I could feel the familiar tip tap of water on my bald old head.
Dubai rarely sees rain, but last Tuesday it saw more than it has since 1949!
Records were broken! And as usual, yer aul pal Lehane was there in the middle of it.
"Well, doesn't that beat Banagher?" I said to my missus, sorry that I hadn't thought to bring along my oilskins.
We didn't have to wait long for the heavens to open, and Dubai then, even with all the wealth, was just like any Irish town.
People were rushing about, sheltering here and there; I simply couldn't believe my eyes.
"Dubai!" I said, shaking my worn-out fist at the sky. "You have let me down badly."
I rang home in frustration only to be told by my neighbour that the sun was splitting the stones in Dunmanway.
"You could fry an egg on the stones here, if you had an egg," I was informed.
"Well, here in Dubai, it's lashing!" I roared down the line.
Having grown mighty frustrated with the city of Dubai and the torrential rain, soon I was out in the country. There I met a farmer who had gone out of his mind because of the rain.
I had seen it all before.
"Well, doesn't that just beat Banagher?" says I again, for I could think of nothing better to say.
"It's the same the world over, my friend," I said, trying to console the poor devil.
He understood for sure.
For while we spoke with different tongues, rain is rain the world over.
"Bring in the cows," I said, "And don't be listening to all the rubbish spoken by farm advisers about grazing in the wet."
And so, with my help, his cows, which must have numbered 20,000, were hunted back into the shed.
The herd size might have been astronomical, but it is the same job.
And whether you have 20 or 20,000 cows, there is always one cow who thinks she is smarter than the rest.
And sure enough, off she galloped away from the herd.
I had seen this happen a thousand times before back on the farm, and so throwing my stick in an experienced fashion, I blocked her from going through a break in the ditch.
Had she gone free, she could have ended up in Timbuctoo or someplace.
The farmer from Dubai was overjoyed and thanked me for the help.
"Think nothing of it, my friend," says I. "Where I come from, cattle escape all the time." And we both laughed heartily.
In a strange way, Dubai was no different to Macroom or any other place in the world.
"The rain," I assured my brother in farming, "will pass," and then I told the farmer from Dubai all about the fine weather we are now experiencing in Ireland.
"There are no clouds in Ireland today," I bragged.
Nothing, only blue skies and happy faces.
