Impossible/Impassible.

It’s Friday evening, 18:14. A plasterer is working upstairs, getting a bathroom ready for tiling on Monday. I’ve enjoyed watching the process since the plumbers started their work earlier in the week.

And what of the day? A wash-out of sorts. I walked the dog the long way in to the office. Opting for detour after detour, extending what could be a 25 minute walk into a 60 minute stomp. Made all the more memorable by the sheets of rain coming down. The dog had his coat on, as did I. But still we were drowned out. They’re calling it Storm Claudia. I didn’t mind it all that much. Nothing a hot black coffee couldn’t sort out. She was stood outside the office door when I arrived. Black boots and thick black coat, hood thrown over her head. Our work together lasted some three hours. She left and I fell in and out of productivity. Rain didn’t stop, still hasn’t. They say it’ll be heavy until late Saturday evening. I need to hope the road doesn’t flood at the bottom of the hill. We’re new here and neighbours have warned us that it can flood to the point of being impassible. Part of me wants to see it, of course I do.

I believed in something coming along and shaking things up. I’m still waiting just not sure I still believe.

The plasterer is almost finished. Said no longer than twenty minutes. It’ll be 19:30 by then. I’ll jump in the car, swing by the industrial estate, pick a friend up from his unit and head to the art gallery. By driving I can’t drink too much. It’s miserable rain still. There’s something I love about miserable rain.