Today sees Ambridge temporarily twinned with Transylvania. Vicious forks of lightning stab earthward from the lowering inky black clouds. Great peals of thunder rend the skies. The peasant hordes throng the streets brandishing pitchforks and blazing firebrands-- which is admittedly a bit odd in June in a light industrial suburb, but there you go, it must be the thundery weather (or perhaps the Sale at the Fancy Dress shop in the precinct...).
The rain lashes the windows of the car before being unceremoniously shoved aside by wipers on their highest speed setting. The rain suddenly stops. The wipers flick little steams of sparkling diamonds over already drenched peasantry as they wave their, now extinuished, steaming firebrands at me. The wipers yowl in pain across the now dry screen then degenerate into desultory fart noises till I can flick them back to off.
On the whole I'm rather glad I only had one home visit to make today.