Everything is still below the leaden sky. Pigeons and crows stand in anticipation on the ridges of roofs. Tower blocks and gasometers stark against the grey clouds. Aeroplanes illuminously white flying across the sky.
The yellow greyness builds threateningly towards thunder storms. One fork of lightning. Many seconds later the low roll of thunder reaches us.
On the train a second very yellow fork flashed down as we came into London Bridge. Tower Bridge and the Gherkin against a blackening sky. Expectantly waiting for the heavy drops that everyone is praying for.
"...so you get that tingly feeling when some stranger who's good looking comes up the stairs and sits by you. You can feel his hard body, firm legs and arms, not pressing but touching, gently rocking against you with the swaying of the bus, y'know?..."
The air is cooler. North London has wet streets even though I've seen no rain yet. Then, stepping off the bus the rain starts. Cold heavy drops blister onto hot skin. They hit my chest and roll down inside my shirt. As I walk it gets heavier, thunder rolls across the sky. I shelter under a tree waiting for it to lighten up. Wet feet.
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