The torrential rain meant only one thing where the Flying Pig was concerned. It was time to get wet. This was partly because of the intensity of the rain which was near tropical levels. To be truthful the blame lay firmly at my door for failing, dismally. to park the Pig on a hill, facing up, so that the water could run down to the back.
Every corner I turned, I got wet. Wetter than usual. As the Pig had been parked for quite a long time on the flat, a reservoir had accumulated above my head, in the destination board compartment. Instead of the normal power shower, it was like having a bucket of water tipped over my head. Anyway, to be thankful for small mercies, it kept the schoolchildren amused.
The Eastern European student stopped winding up the girls. The champion gymnast stopped using the rails as parallel bars to practice reverse pirouettes on. The brothers stopped poking each other. The older students, whose self-imposed 'grandmother rights' of sitting in the back row of the bus, normally led to all kinds of shenanigans, were ominously quiet in between water falls, in anticipation of the force of the next deluge. This was a price worth paying.
That was on Friday. Yesterday was even wetter. The local river resembled the Amazon. Fallen trees and branches littered the road. There were floods everywhere.
Fortunately I had traded the Flying Pig for a bus which didn't leak. I enjoy the bad weather on the Vallium Run. It is exhillerating. The noise of the water smacking the bottom of the bus. The spray flying into the air, giving the feeling that you are on the watersplash at Alton Towers rather than on a service bus route. It brings out the best of the passengers too. There is some vitality in the moroseness of their chats about the weather.
"It's not looking good," said one.
"Aye, it's not looking good," repeated another.
"No it's not looking good," echoed the first passenger again. "Not looking good at all."
"Snow's on the way."
"Aye, just look at them sheep o'er thar." I looked. They seemed more miserable than usual. Water was running off they're underbellies in streams. They looked like mops before they had been squeezed out.
"No no the look of them," the passenger corrected, "the fact that they are so low down on the fell. It means snow's coming."
It's been right in the past. Just feels too mild for snow, but we'll see.
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