Rain rain go away

The Vodafone advert narrated by Judi Dench – you know the one, "drip drip drip little April showers" – is really doing my head in at the moment. Mainly because there are no "little showers" right now. Never before in my lifetime have I had cause to use the word ‘torrential’ so often in so short a space of time. The other Saturday I was caught in a downpour on my way into Lewisham and had to take refuge under various trees and bus shelters because no umbrella in the world can stop the rain that’s bouncing up off the pavement onto your trousers. And this evening I got soaked coming home from the station. The walk takes less than ten bloody minutes, and my jacket was sodden all down the left arm. The brolly started to drip water down my neck. I don’t even want to talk about my shoes. And then, to add insult to injury, Wednesday is Abel and Cole day so I had to go back outside to open up the big wooden delivery box in the front yard and take out the foods.

Bagelmouse has never liked rain. This is not rain. This is water torture. Could be worse I suppose; I could be back in the homeland.

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