The monsoon finally arrived to break the run of hot weather. Latterly the combination of heat and humidity had become difficult to tolerate. Nobody had wanted to stir. Instead everyone languished indoors in the shade, patio doors flung wide open in the hope of catching the faintest of breezes. We craved for ice in our drinks but had to settle instead for the cold tap, run as fast as it would go to maximize the cooling effect. The lawn had lost most of its colour and the streets were uncomfortable to walk. Ten paces and you broke into a sweat. Life slowed down to the slowest of slow. In the papers we read of the deaths of old people in apartment blocks. The fragile and the sick who’s bodies found it easier to give up rather than contend with the unaccustomed heat.
Then the rain came accompanied by spectacular thunderstorms. We watched the flashes of lightning and counted to see how far away they were. They came gradually closer bringing with them a torrential downpour that filled the gutters to overflowing and sent us outside to unblock the drainpipes that had filled during the dry period, the leaves prematurely shed from the trees that surrounded the house. We sat in the conservatory looking out at the vertical torrents that bounced off the roof, nature banging its drum. Occasionally we would have to venture out, clad in shorts, sandals and waterproofs. Although it was wet it was still pleasantly warm.
The rains finally left us. We set to unblocking the drain in front of the garage. The garage itself had flooded, as it does every time. I took Tom for a driving lesson, instructing him to avoid the large puddles that met us at every bend in the road. The sky was spectacularly grey and white, a steely contrast with the damp straw colour of the fields that we sped past in the car. We arrived home as it grew dark. The television could be seen lighting up the room with the curtains fully open. Leaving Tom to lock up I strode through the front door, opened up the laptop and started to type.