Awning Glory

My Dear Princess & Dear Fellows,
 
The tail end of a tropical cyclone bumped into a low-pressure area off the west coast of NZ today. The result is THIS. A meteorological event known as "pishing it down".

I bloody love it. Right now, it's got that close airless feeling about it, but once it blows over I know that everything will feel fresh and nice again. And the rain is supposed to hang around for a day or two, vanquishing those high temperatures.

Apparently this has been most marked in the South Island, where they had been languishing with temperatures of around 34 degrees, but it has dropped by 20 degrees overnight. Which is pretty radical.

I took this picture on my way home today, and it occurred to me that the Kiwi innovation of just about every shop having an awning is really bloody handy. During the heatwave, I could hide from the worst of the sun. And today, I could make it most of the way along Lambton Quay while getting only slightly damp. 

It's not just Lambton Quay either. Just about every shop here has an awning. I think the Aussies do it as well. 

Edinburgh. I'm just saying. I remember the days of seeing groups of damp people clustered under bus stops, or dangling around in the foyer at M&S. THESE PEOPLE DESERVE AWNINGS.

I am in a good mood today. Smock has been being ever so nice to me. I think she has realised that I'm not a plonker. Or at least she has learned to appreciate my plonkeriness. But that takes 2nd place to the fact that I have FIVE DAYS OFF. IN A ROW.

See, the office is being refurbished on account of it is full of asbestos. And they asked us all to work from home tomorrow & Monday because they don't want us to DIE OF ASBESTOS. As I don't have a laptop, I can't do that so I would have to go to ANOTHER OFFICE and find a desk there.

So I came up with an alternate plan called "Plan Eff That For A Lark". I booked tomorrow and Monday off and then Tuesday is Waitangi Day, which is a national holiday.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself. I'm considering running around in the rain, naked. 

S.

p.s. That pub, "The Churchill" is an effing monstrosity of a "British" pub. I suppose it is accurate in that it looks like someone has taken a revolting Wetherspoons and just plopped it here. I AM NEVER GOING IN THERE. NEVAH.