Tuesday 10 May 2016

Six Hundred And Ninety Two

Rain, a bicycle, some singing. More rain. Huddling under bridges. A prolonged spell of dampness while tutoring GCSE students. Such is the way of things on a Tuesday in May. The dampness has permeated the very fabric of the universe, and even now the Fates are asking for umbrellas to be sent up to their retreat.

Please, don't misunderstand me, oh deranged, improbable and phantasmic readers. Rain is the best weather of all, and has been ever since school. Many a lunch hour was spent in the arches, reading while listening to the rain come down, and enjoying the humidity. Rain is a greatly underrated kind of weather. You can sing in it, dance in it, experience episodes of sadness and joy, and become intensely wet. At university there were several occasions that saw literal 'Singing In The Rain' episodes while walking down to the town from campus. Yes, I know, it's very strange that I've never been locked away.

Six hundred and ninety two posts in, it should really be much harder to write these things. Perhaps it's the effect of practice and a total disregard for making sense or being interesting! Perhaps a writer who will happily spend paragraphs talking about rain is someone with no shame? Maybe it's a result of reading so many books and watching so many films and television series. Today, the original 'King Kong', from 1933, sneaked in via disc rental, and it was brilliant! It will certainly be the topic of the next post, so well constructed and conceived it was.

Rain is a very organic form of weather, shifting back to the original theme, and very entertaining in its own way. Is there a greater relief in the temperate world than summer humidity breaking into a refreshing shower? Is there any more thrilling circumstance than being out in a storm and listening to the thunder?

It's always raining at the Quirky Muffin. In a good way.

O.

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