For the second of two nights at precisely 10.29pm I am aware that it is raining.

Yesterday’s 10.29pm weather event was immediately apparent to me because I stepped out of a pub, continued a conversation with my companion, dodging under the roofs along the street for shelter.  The rain was vicious and had come out of no where. It had been such a mild night when I started out. My coat, of course, the good coat, has no hood on it.

(What kind of a coat is it? You might ask. It is the coat approved by the sister. It is an elegant coat seemingly. Oh the impractical nature of elegance.)

Tonight it’s another variety of rain, darting rain to yesterday’s decisive and impaling rain.

But then the view of the rain differs, even though the time is identical — 24 hours apart. I am looking out at it, not up at it.

I love to look up at the rain, I made a remarkable discovery once looking up at the rain. It’s impact upon me I have never forgotten.