The Big Race

It hasn't stopped pouring with rain in Melbourne all morning, perhaps we could have a duck race?

Wouldn't you like to see floaties on those horses?

The rain fell hard, like a train pounding across the landscape. The courtyard filled with water, like a big pond, Lake Eyre'ish. (I was secretly hoping for pink flamingos) The air was heavy with moisture, you could taste it on your lips. You could feel the depth of the wet in the air, there was a dead echo. The sky was grey hanging low all day.

If it was winter we would have lit the fire, and made tea and eaten cake, but as it was not, we didn’t. We ate red bean with coconut milk and drank coffee.

We took Buddy to the dog park when the sun came out, but the grey clouds soon formed again and we had a big race of our own running home in the rain. Sam leading the way. Sam hates to get wet in the rain, I always joke that he must think his dead straight black hair is going to frizz, or something. I always think of Monica from Friends. Bud, the red head, is up the back. Buddy doesn't care how wet he gets, couldn't care less, so he brings up the rear. And me, with my salt and pepper hair, somewhere between the two, I'm in the middle trying to pretend that I don't care, all the while trying to hurry Buddy up so I don't get saturated. I see a few blocked drains out the corner of my eye, and I want to stop and find a big stick and unblock them, but I don't, I keep running, heading for home.