Rain

It's been raining like it's the end of the world here in Brighton. I swear I've never seen such torrential rain last for so long. The poor postie was stuck sheltering in a porch on the opposite side of the road for at least half an hour. He looked pretty fed-up so I popped out and offered him our spare brolly. He didn't take it though, guess he wanted to just stand and watch for a mo.
I love it when it rains. I love the fact that the air becomes colder and crisper and the crackling noise of the water on my big ol' concrete slab of a balcony. It's like the stuck-between-stations noise from a badly tuned radio but a lot louder. Makes me fizz all over when I stand at the window looking out at the rain and just listen. I can't stand people who just hate 'bad' weather, as Billy Connolly once said, "There's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong type of hat."
These people are out there, lurking, waiting. Waiting for it to snow and cover everything in that gorgeous covering of white. Waiting for the air to make the inside of your nostrils cold and your lungs tingle when you take a deep breath. Waiting when kids, amazed at such a truly beautiful spectacle, gambol around and revel in the cold. They're waiting, waiting to grumble at rain, snow and, more often than not, the heat too. It's too hot.