The rhythmical rain tapped out its symphony on the car roof punctuated periodically by the percussion of larger drops that had accumulated on an overhanging bough.
Inside
the car I watch the rain drops, secretly choosing one, race down the windscreen
and follow it as it races other drops in the windscreen Grand National until
the rhythm of the rain changes and the drops are swallowed in the ensuing
torrent.
With
the windows tight shut mist quickly forms and my brother and I play naughts and
crosses in the mist until the game is ended abruptly when Dad switches on the
heater.
The
rain eases slightly so I begin the secret racing game again, but this soon has
to be modified when Dad put the wipers on intermittent wipe.
This
meant your chosen droplet not only had to beat all the other contenders but
also avoid being wiped out.
Dad
put the radio on, and it was playing “Rain drops keep falling on my head” my
Dad laughed and my brother and I just looked at each other and he shrugged the
irony was lost on us.
My
Dad liked the song but then he was old, almost fifty.
We’ve
all been in the car for twenty minutes now and we’re just waiting for Mum.
She
came out the house the same time as we did but she had to go back for her
handbag and then she came out again only to return to check all the windows
were closed, all the taps were turned off, the back door was locked and so on
and so forth.
She
would have checked the gas as well had it not been for the fact we were all
electric.
It
doesn’t matter that my Dad had already checked everything.
Here
she comes again, no she’s gone back to the loo.
My
brother and I get very fidgety and irritable by this performance every time we
go anywhere but my Dad is completely un-phased by it.
The
puzzling thing is we always arrived at our destination on time, What I didn’t
know was that he always told my Mum the departure time was half an hour before
he actually wanted to leave.
Here
comes Mum at last, no she’s gone again she’s forgotten her umbrella.
