Oh, that gap

It rained this afternoon. For the first time in ages, it rained. Oh, to be certain, a few drops of water parted with cloud and sky several times over the summer months, but this was a proper deluge. The skies darkened, the winds howled, the heavens opened, and for a few minutes at least a solid wall of water descended on the world.

This has no relevance to anything beyond the simple fact that I like rain; walking in it, running through it, jumping in the puddles it creates, soaking the unwary. And then getting home and changing, sitting down with a good book, reading against the inclement backdrop. It's wonderfully comforting somehow.

Anyway, I ventured out into the heart of London tonight, through the rain, to catch up with an old friend who happened to be in town for the evening before departing the continent tomorrow (yes, another one, what's wrong with good old England, er Britain, er Scotland people?). Anyway, on my way into town I learned a valuable lesson. Those of you who have had cause to visit London in the past and travel on the tube will doubtless be aware of the monotonous voice that intones "Mind The Gap" everytime a train approaches a platform. Well, tonight I had an intimate encounter with the aforementioned gap as I went travelling on an unfamiliar tube line (the Waterloo and City line which amusingly consists of precisely two stops: Waterloo and the City). Here I discovered that trains on this line are situated slightly further from the platform than usual. It's an easy discovery to make from half way under a train. Gratifyingly a number of passers by seemed quite concerned by my sudden plummet, even after I clambered up and did my best to reassure them that I was still in once piece and completely unscathed.

It's not quite up there with slipping on a banana skin (yes, been there done that too), but at least I can now confirm that there is a gap and it does indeed bear minding.