Puddles form beside the ditches, growing into floods that take over the road. Hesitating, listening intently for the sounds of cars approaching. Taking a hop, skip, jump and filling my shoes with water. Cars pass, no room to avoid the wall of water they displace.
8 AM shivering in the blustering winds. Useless umbrella abandoned, broken, and forlorn. The bus comes, 10 minutes late. Relief, wipe hands on my wet coat, smile apologetic, hand over the dripping ticket. Acknowledge the other regulars. Condensation fogs windows, air catches in my throat. Watch the countryside go by. Buildings coloured grey from the continuous drizzle. Trees weighed down, randomly flinging their branches to soak the unexpected.
Thirty minutes of damp discomfort, set off in the rain again. Water flows by the curb disappearing down the drains. Squelching with every step, I weave through the city streets.
College. Entering, turning on the lights, the janitors haven’t arrived. My studio. Hat, coat, scarf, shoes and socks soon decorate the radiator. Spare socks and shoes shoved on.
“Hello, canteen lady, scone and tea please.” Find a table beside a radiator. Cup my tea, steam warms up my nose. Watch the butter melt slowly into my scone. I wait for the other early morning risers to arrive.
A memory from my college life. I wanted to work on using descriptions, also trying to use different words. This memory was a regular occurrence in my life. No wonder I spent so much time sick. I would go weeks on end, never truly being dry.