We were enjoying a nice Friday afternoon beverage outside the Anchor, a popular spot to watch punting tourists fall in the Cam, when an obese raindrop landed on Mr Pandammonium’s phone. Gradually, more and more landed, not only on his phone, but all around. Then the world brightened briefly and the sky growled. People started going inside. We went inside, too. I waited at the door, watching, while Mr Pandammonium joined the other people at the bar.
The punters were still out there on the river. I doubted the wisdom of being surrounded by water whilst clutching a metal pole in a thunder storm. But they didn’t seem fazed.