Lordy, lordy, lord. The place was like a tornado had hit it this morning. Stepped out of the front door, unaware that the country had been hit by crazy winds, scowled at the rain and pulled my hood up.
It wasn't until I got around the corner that I noticed - and even then it took me a while - largely because I had my head stuck in my book. It's not the sort of book I usually read - it is The Other Boleyn Girl and frankly, I'm engrossed. I like to think that because there is some historical truth to it, it doesn't count as trash... but I'm not sure I'm even convincing myself.
That said, it is riveting. I will, of course, be going to see it at the cinema as well - however I can't pretend that I'm anything other than miffed about both Mary and Anne Boleyn being portrayed as Americans - but my sister is obsessed with that part of our history, and I will be a willing partner.
Anyway, back to the point. This morning, it was like a tornado had hit the place. Once around hte corner and with my nose out of the book, I noted that the pavements were strewn with twigs and branches and as I walked a little further, I discovered that it was not just twigs and branches, but whole trees. Yes, there were trees lying across the road, uprooted by the wind that I had slept right through.
And around the next corner, there was the spewed contents of 8 magazine stands turning to mulch on the wet ground as we all trampled them. Upon reaching the tube station, there was a small mountain of abandoned and broken umbrellas. It was quite moving. Tens of umbrellas on their deathbed, their mixed up array of colours jumbling in an insideout heap. Almost brings a tear to your eye. But not quite as much as the sheet rain I witnessed plummeting its way towards the earth as we pulled out one stop before I had to get off and do the fifteen minute walk to work. Ugh.
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