Mother Nature must have been keenly aware of Frank McCourt's ongoing and arduous reconciliation with his miserable childhood in Limerick and decided it was time to give him a break.
The heavens poured open as the 77-year-old author touched down in Shannon last Wednesday. But during his very first Angela's Ashes walking tour on the following day, the rain stayed at bay in the city that helped to make McCourt his fortune with the publication of his debut memoir.
Millions of people across the globe have been affected by that book, but its unexpected success has also added another layer of complexity to McCourt's relationship with Limerick, that have yet to be teased out in the written word.
While always in the mood to regale, the author was in wistful form last Thursday, particularly on Barrack Hill as he looked around with furrowed brows at the transformation of where he grew up.
Despite reputedly feeling terrified when McCourt agreed to go on the tour, historian and tour guide Michael O'Donnell provided many moments of light relief in what was a serious mission for the group from the United States to uncover the real Angela's Ashes.
Outside the author's childhood home on Barrack Hill, he explained to the American ensemble of tourists: "This is where Frank emptied the piss-pot outside the back door."
Memories flooded back as the author recalled how he and his brother Malachy would pour water down the slope of the lane in icy conditions and slide down.
George Heslin, from Raheen, who also went on the tour, said while their surroundings have changed, Frank has remained very much the same since all those years ago in Leamy's National School.
"They're all new houses, it has changed completely. They were exciting times. But I recognised Frank straight away," he said.
But Mr McCourt noted that in a city full of change, all that has remained of his youth is the lamp-pole in the corner where he used to meet his friends at night. The Franciscans have gone, the Jesuits have gone and foreign nationals have moved into the city in their tens of thousands, just like McCourt fled to America in search of a better life.
On Henry Street, with its legions of internet cafes, he had ample opportunity to witness the changing face of the city.
"We had no traffic lights in those days until they put them up at the corner of O'Connell Street and William Street. It was big entertainment to go down and watch the lights changing as we couldn't go to the Lyric cinema. Limerick has changed utterly as Yeats said."
Some of his 14 American companions - who paid $7,800 for the pleasure of his company over the 10 day tour - were disappointed that the city didn't look more like it did in the film. One tourist, noting all the cars along the laneway, said: "It's not like the film at all. Why didn't they move the cars for our arrival?"
Melissa Schottland, who travelled here from Rhode Island with her husband, added: "It's so new, so vibrant, it's not the way I pictured it at all. We want to see the old Ireland too, not just the really successful Ireland."
The lane along Barrack Hill has been widened, pushed back and is now complete with a row of modern, neat townhouses. "It looks like California," said the author.
The sight of a TV3 camera-man running at break-neck speed down the lane brought curtains twitching and residents peering out of their front doors to see what all the fuss was about.
After all, the Angela's Ashes tour has paraded past their homes every day for the past decade, since the memoir was published in 1998. And it is a tour that will continue to keep running, because as the tour guide Michael O'Donnell said "the book will never die".
Suspicion was aroused as this was 11am and not the regular allotted time of 2.30pm when the tour kicks off. Others had caught a glimpse of newspaper reports revealing his imminent arrival and were standing by their doors, a copy of Angela's Ashes, or its follow-up 'Tis, in hand for him to sign.
One such resident, Catherine Moloney, was seen beaming with joy on the 5.30pm news that night as he signed a book of the book for her.
It was a special, fleeting moment; one that has now been and gone, and perhaps has left the author with more material for his further literary projects.
New York tour organiser Anne Marie Victory said that demand to be part of this small tour was phenomenal, after it was advertised in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal.
"You can imagine if you loved the book and loved the movie how big this is for people. He's a big attraction world-wide; people love to be with him. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity without a doubt," she said. Jean Mason, a reporter from New Mexico, simply said: "What a treat to travel with Frank."
It was a big event for the people of the lane, bigger again for the tour guide, and impossible to imagine how the author himself really felt as he walked by the by-ways of his life; a life which has since been pored over by in excess of six million readers and translated into 32 languages.
We will probably only know how he really felt if McCourt does as promised, and writes the story of the "real Limerick."
At St Joseph's Church on O'Connell Avenue, where he made his First Communion and Confirmation, he returned to say a prayer in the confession box. But his solitude was interrupted by a photographer eager to catch the moment. His startled look in one of the shots begs the question: what was he praying for?
Later on, in passing, he talked about why he has poured out four books since the age of 66 and said, without further elaboration: "Maybe I'm trying to save my poor, sordid soul."
The underlying reasoning behind his visit last week was also open to interpretation. Mr O'Donnell said he asked him to come on the tour before, to which the author humorously replied: "Mike, I wrote the book."
But McCourt hinted that the tour may have been part of a search for a deeper meaning. In an interview with this newspaper last year he advised that his life lesson is "get rid of your fears, whatever they are" and last week his rhetoric continued in the same vein, stating he has "unfinished business" with Limerick.
"I was dragged into this kicking and screaming, walking around with Mike O'Donnell, getting my nose rubbed in my own life.
"All those here today have read the book and are looking for the deeper meaning and that is why they are here. If they find a deeper meaning they will get a prize - as I have never been able to find it."
The media circus last Thursday was testament to the fact that everyone wants to get close to Frank, wherever he goes, and are willing to pay large sums of cash for the opportunity:
"There's nothing as fascinating as me talking about me," he said with mock egotism during a previous interview.
One American tourist noted that the New York school where he formerly taught has now been made so popular by the third book, Teacher Man, that it is harder to get into than securing a place in Harvard.
Soon, the public will get another chance to sample McCourt's magic. The film of Teacher Man is due to hit the big screen in two years' time and already they are scouring Hollywood for an actor fit to play McCourt.
Johnny Depp, Matthew Broderick and Cillian Murphy have all been mentioned to star in the film, which has been adapted by the Oscar-winning Ronald Bass of Rain Man fame.
McCourt, who said "My life is like something out a movie", will now be worthy of not one, but two big budget films. As Mr O'Donnell said in astonishment, twirling his red and white umbrella on Barrack Hill, it's hard to believe this Pulitzer Prize winner came from right here in Limerick.
After the publication of his first children's book, Angela and the Baby Jesus, last year, he is now working on a novel about New York and is rewriting his play, the Irish and How They Got That Way. After those two projects, he hopes to write a book about his life after the publication of Angela's Ashes.
"Some day I'll have to write the real book and then watch out," he laughed.
His bonds with Limerick, though it is no longer home, keep him "drifting back" in an attempt to disentangle his childhood. "There's something about coming back to Limerick that's very moving - I've had such a turbulent relationship with the city. The city doesn't know it. It's what I had to write about when I finally started writing after teaching for 30 years. I had to get it out of my system, but you never do. People say it's a catharsis, but it's not. Look at me - I'm back here again."
So he said in 2007, and he was here again last week. One wonders when McCourt, who said he wants his ashes scattered over the River Shannon when he dies, will be back in Limerick for the next sequel.