(It is Time for) Stormy Weather

A Londoner learns to live with moisture, or the prospect of it, constantly.  If it isn’t rain falling all at once in a downpour, accompanied by gusty winds that leave broken umbrellas strewn across the streets of the city, it is a mist of fine droplets, seeming to hang in the air, coating your outerwear in successive layers as you go about your business, until you realise, suddenly, that you are drenched.  Umbrellas provide no protection against this wet mist which is, as I like to say, capable of penetrating to your socks.

Melbourne weather is not as crafty.  The grey clouds blow in.  It rains.  It squalls.  You get wet.  The grey clouds drift on.  Shafts of sunlight break through. And the ducks come out to play.

The ducks take flight…

…and swim away.


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