It's not just the rain that's bothersome today. It's the hurling wind, that blows ducks sideways in the sky, that shakes my car as I drive over the MacDonald Bridge and that pushes the tidal waters too far up the shore.
|Punch buggy -- no punch back !|
It's the sort of day, where you still get soaked under the "protective" overhang, hunched over, nozzle in hand, gassing up the car.
It's the sort of day, where boats float at record high levels, tugging at their moorings.
It's the sort of day, that when you head to a local spot, to marvel at the surging surf, you find it already occupied by a Global TV van, and a sodden videographer. Clearly he's getting the shots he was looking for, as wind-driven detritus is hurled past him and crashing surf plasters his rain gear with shredded pieces of seaweed.
It's the sort of day to stay inside.