The neck geometry of children is somewhere between yoga master and owl
Last weekend I stepped outside to take the bins out and returned looking like I’d competed in a wet-T-shirt contest no one asked for. My socks squelched and I appeared to be freshly delivered by midwives. Meanwhile, two pint-sized lunatics were in the garden, dancing in puddles like salmon at a rave.
This is Britain in September. Skies the colour of council-estate concrete, rain attacking at a 45 degree angle, and a nation collectively sighing “bloody typical.” As someone who re-located from Australia last year, this has been quite the adjustment.
We’ve been conditioned to treat bad weather like an adversary here. It cancels things, ruins holidays, and feeds our finest national pastime: moaning. But kids don’t start off moaning. They only learn that from us. To them, rain is confetti from the gods.
It’s time we rewired our rain brains and flipped the script, and it starts with prep.
Wet-Weather Dad Prep 101
Before you fling yourself and the small humans into the storm, a few survival hacks:
Dress for Battle
Wellies or boots that don’t leak like your old camping kit
Waterproofs for everyone, kids included (puddle-suits are basically armour)
Avoid jeans unless you enjoy walking around in denim sausages
Layer up. Better to strip a fleece than freeze while pretending you’re fine
Always have a change of clothes stashed in the car
Bonus: Bring a flask of something hot (hot choc, tea, or “dad juice” depending on the day) and hand warmers if you want hero status
The Holy Relic: The Soggy Day Bag (your new best friend - keep it by the door)
Towel x 2
Spare socks and pants for the kids and you
Snacks that don’t dissolve in rain (bars, bananas, not breadsticks).
Water bottle
Mini first aid kit
Nappies if required (you’ll only forget once)
A bin bag (for wet gear, emergency poncho, or improvised sled)
Know Your Enemy
BBC Weather, Met Office, or Rain Today radar. Perfect for working out whether you’ve got a playful drizzle or an incoming apocalypse.
Rewire the Rain Brain
Head out expecting misery and that’s exactly what you’ll get. Lean into the chaos: the wet, the wind, the drama, and suddenly the whole thing shifts. Even the worst moments can become the best stories.
Take a recent wild camping trip in Scotland as an example. My son and I woke on the remote Ardnish Peninsula to rain so savage it felt like stepping into a car wash, only colder and with less pop music. The wind howled and the tent thrashed; packing up quickly became the most strained our relationship has been in his eight years, as we sprinted after cooking pots that cartwheeled across the bay.
Nothing beats a Jet2holiday
It was utterly miserable. We bickered, we sulked, we soldiered on, drenched to the bone and clinging to the promise of dryness. But the rain eventually eased, the sun emerged, and by the time we staggered back to the car we were stripping to our undies and cranking the heating like feral shipwreck survivors.
It’s the bit we talk and laugh about the most from the adventure. The soggy nightmare became the story.
Five Microadventures Made for Rainy Days
When the heavens open, don’t retreat. Treat it like foreplay. Lean into the drama. Let the wind slap you about and let the rain baptise you in British misery. Walk, cycle, stomp through the fields like a heroic sponge. If you’re stuck for inspiration though, thats what I’m here for - here are a few gloriously soggy ideas to get the juices flowing.
1. The Tarp Temple
The original rainproof sanctuary, powered by string and dad improvisation.
What you’ll need:
A tarp (any size - blue, green, or the mysterious one in the shed that smells faintly of onions)
Rope / paracord
Somewhere with trees, fences, or even the washing line to anchor it
A flask of tea (non-negotiable)
Stretch the tarp between two trees, tie on with rope and peg it down low on one side for maximum storm-proofing. Then crawl in with the kids, throw down a blanket and let the rain hammer overhead like a festival drum solo. Read a book together, tell a story or wildly exaggerated lies about your school football career, and watch as the whole thing transforms into a secret HQ. Cosy, silly, and utterly theirs.
2. The Wild Hunt
A scavenger mission that turns drizzle into a full-blown quest.
What you’ll need:
A scrap of paper and a pen to write the list
A small bag for collecting treasures
Sharp eyes and a willingness to tromp through wet undergrowth
Set the kids a scavenger mission and suddenly you’re not trudging through a damp wood: you’re adventurers on a quest for magical artefacts. Nettles become treasure, worms become spaghetti monsters, puddles become portals. It’s silly, it’s focused, and it reframes a wet walk into a treasure hunt. And if you need inspiration, here are ten items to spark your own Wild Hunt.
10 things for your Wild Hunt list:
Three different shaped leaves — extra points if one looks like an animal
Something red — berry, leaf, litter… or dad’s rain-flushed face.
A feather — ideally not the crow that’s been side-eyeing you all afternoon
Something that wriggles — worm, slug, millipede… nature’s spaghetti.
A stick shaped like a letter or number — cue the start of “stick Scrabble.”
A stone that looks like food — flat like a Hobnob, round like a meatball. Do not eat.
A splashy puddle — must demonstrate with a jump, judges score on style.
Something that smells weird — flower, herb, fungus
A sound — bird call, rain on leaves, or dad swearing after slipping over
Something tiny but alive — woodlouse, beetle, snail. A micro safari in your palm.
3. Rainwater Brew-Up
The world’s most unnecessary cup of tea, and yet somehow the most satisfying.
What you’ll need:
A plastic sheet or tarp
String
Four 1m+ sticks (or anything vaguely pole-shaped)
A pan and something to boil water on (camp stove, Kelly kettle, or the trusty hob once you’re home)
Teabags, obviously
Spread your sheet somewhere with a clear view of the sky, tie each corner to a stick (string or dad-knots will do), and drive them into the ground at outward angles so the sheet sags in the middle. Poke a hole at the lowest point and funnel the rainwater into a pan, then boil it up and brew the most symbolic cuppa you’ll ever drink. Sure, the kitchen tap was easier, but where’s the poetry in that? Kids love the weirdness of drinking tea “from the sky,” and you get to look smugly resourceful, like a budget Ray Mears on a tea break. Sneak in a couple of custard creams so you can call it a proper ceremony.
4. The Dam Busters
Nothing unites a family like building something, then gleefully destroying it.
What you’ll need:
A stream, gully, or ditch with running water
Rocks, sticks, logs, mud, and small hands willing to get gloriously filthy
Wellies (optional, but your socks will hate you without them)
Stack rocks and clods of mud across the flow until you’ve created your own miniature Hoover Dam, then unleash chaos by breaking it with a dramatic countdown. It’s basically a free hydrology class that activates the inner beaver in every man, so good luck not getting furiously involved yourself.
5. Mud Art (Love Letters to Mum)
Michelangelo had marble. You’ve got mud.
What you’ll need:
A decent patch of squelch (bonus points if it smells faintly of cow)
Sticks, stones, or just your bare hands for sculpting
A box or tray to carry the masterpiece home
Paper and pen for the “from the heart” note
Fashion your mud into whatever shape your imagination (or questionable motor skills) allows - a heart, a hedgehog, or a grotesque humanoid blob. Present it to your partner with a scribbled note. Kids adore the mess, you get dad points for “creative play,” and your other half gets a gift that’s half art, half biohazard. Take it one step further and bake it in the oven for ten minutes to harden it, then act like you’re unveiling pottery.
Long Live the Drizzle
The truth is mate: the best memories are never bone-dry. They’re soaked, squelchy, and slightly ridiculous. They smell of wet dog and taste like rainwater tea. That’s the good stuff though. That’s the marrow of dadhood. So go on, grab the tarp, grab the kids, and baptise yourself in the great British drizzle.
Amen.
READ / WATCH / LISTEN
Captain Fantastic
This is a must (re)watch if you’ve ever wondered what fatherhood looks like cranked to 11. Viggo Mortensen stomps through the wilderness as the greatest dad ever to grace a cinema screen - half philosopher king, half scout leader - the film is a warm yet heart breaking testament to the power of parenting.
