One of the nice things about being on the fourth floor is that we get a lot of sky, and so far this year that has meant a lot of blue skies. The sunrise is pale blue shot through with gold silk. The evening is indigo. But yesterday was grey all day.
I had a few errands to run. First a visit to the quackeroo who declared herself content. Then to the post office and to the bank. Google maps said the nearest branch of our bank was at Terre Neuves at Bègles, so I hopped on the tram, found the post office easily, but of the bank found I never a trace. Quick moment of cogitation. I knew the bus 11 would take me to Victoire and I knew there was a branch there, and bus 11 was due in two minutes. The decision was an easy one to take.
As bus 11 neared the railway station the heavens opened and the fountains of the firmament were poured on surprised scene. The rain cascaded from the sky quicker than it could drain away and within seconds the passing cars were leaving sizeable wakes. Nobody had a coat or an umbrella.
The bus braved the waves up Cours de la Marne as the massive raindrops lashed the windows. I was apprehensive about getting off, frankly, but at Victoire, just 500 meters further, the pavements were dry. I deposited my cheque, not without some fuss because every branch has a different procedure, no pens in the booths and insufficient machines, then took the same bus 11 home.
The monsoon hit us again at the station, but I could see our buildings beyond and all was dry. Go figure.