I had occasion to cycle to Homebase en route home last evening, to fetch some new paintbrushes - never a joy at the best of time, this. I go through paintbrushes like a chimp through bananas. I can't seem to clean them properly, despite following the manufacturer's instructions to the letter, and buying the finest brush-cleaning chemicals money can buy. They all turn into petrified slabs. Anyhoo that's not the point of this article - let us return to our sheep: it was a grim January evening in east London; it had been vaguely damp for most of the day, which don't mind ordinarily. A small drop of the wet stuff never killed anyone (with apologies to the family of anyone it did, however.)
But when I emerged from HB, the weather took a turn for the worse. It started to rain. The rain wasn't heavy, more fat really. By this, I mean the drop density wasn't high. Visibility was good etc., but the individual drops were massive, like peanuts. They seemed to be falling to earth quicker that the usual, smaller raindrops. I realise this is a physical impossibility if Newton is to be believed, but my hand to God, it was the fasted rain I've ever seen. Each drop carried such a payload that being struck by one actually hurt; it was like a small electric shock.
By the time I'd unlocked the bike and reattached the lights, the game was up. I was soaked. I shot home and jumped in the bath. Also, the new brushes soaked-up enough moisture to keep them soft for the duration of the journey home, so not a wasted effort.
