Waking to the soft pitter patter of rainfall on my skylights is always a joy. I do understand that many of you will dislike moisture of the from the heavens variety, but for an expat Brit it is one of the most heartwarming things imaginable. Many would be inclined to pull the covers back over their heads and lay shivering beneath the covers, but my reaction is ever to quickly depart my pit and stand directly under the glass windows so perfectly set into the sloping roof and imagine the feel of those blessed droplets upon my uncovered noggin.
My purpose today was two-fold, to partake a quite exquisite cup of coffee at any one of my fave local cafes, and to top up my supplies of perishable groceries. Thankfully the journey would be less physical tedious than might have been, a dear friend having agreed to meet me along the route in one of her superb vehicles. The opportunity still presented itself for me to saunter, smiling in a most obtuse manner when observed by motorists passing by, whilst being gently christened holy with late summer precipitation.