I am waiting for rain. I’m looking forward to it. I’m scanning the weather reports, and even managing to listen to the weather on TV without glazing over. I have to know when?
Weird I know, seeing as I’m British and as these things go the British are absurdly grateful for one fine day, let alone over a week of good weather, but I am hoping for rain. It’s April and I’m in England, so what is going on? The showers should be frequent, but so far they are falling elsewhere.
This is not a gardening issue, it’s a writerly one. And I don’t mean the usual summer conundrum that writers have to solve on a sunny day, as in you really should stay in and work but you feel you have to go out because in the UK one or two hot days can make a summer, and that’s your lot. No, it’s more straightforward than that. I’ve got it in my head that the cover for my short story collection, London Tsunami & Other Stories, should involve a shot of a wet London street by night.
Should be easy, I thought, it rains all the time, only all of a sudden it’s stopped.
Never mind, I’ll bide my time, I’m sure that perfect shot of a damp lamplit London street can only be a matter of days away, although apparently not according to the weather forecast.
For more information about London Tsunami & Other Stories click here.