Lost, the plot

tonight i'd promised bung to help out on the allotment...on the way there, whilst sheltering from a maddened increase in rain, the text came....am waiting at gate....no escape....no time to pause....soaked through my (non)waterproofed layers i arrived.....the rain continued....work was done...the rain continued, a little more heavily....bessie smith sang the blues....

i hid in the greenhouse, which is a recent addition while the cental shed has been flattened by a, very, local earthquake....but it was dry..and bung kept working buoyed by the work ethic of his forefathers, "rain is nothing to an islander!" he bellowed. i took my camera and pointed in his general direction...

and everybody got soaked. relentlessly so...