Monsoon Season

A sudden electrical storm broke over London yesterday just before 6pm.
I'd been feeling not too good since about lunchtime, and my journey home did not help this - the stairs at Brixton tube station were blocked people unwilling to leave the station. Admittedly, this was torrential, and Tulse Hill was like a river, but walking in the rain won't kill you.

My general fatigue seems to have passed, though I still have a sore throat. I am fighting this with the traditional medicine of my people. Strepsils.

But enough about me. Adam, my housemate, was unlucky enough to be caught more fully in the storm. He'd got a lift from a friend and told them it was okay to just drop him at a bus stop. Then he discovered he had no money for the bus, and was forced to traipse home up the hill with nothing more substantial than a tracksuit jacket on. Admirably, he took this on with what he described as a 'samurai attitude'.

He was, of course, alluding to this saying from Ghost Dog: There is something to be learned from a rainstorm. When meeting with a sudden shower, you try not to get wet and run quickly along the road. But doing such things as passing under the eaves of houses, you still get wet. When you are resolved from the beginning, you will not be perplexed, though you still get the same soaking. This understanding extends to everything.