As I walked home from seeing Shrek 2 last night, the rain began to get a little heavier.
Instead of pulling out my trusty brolly, incidentally purchased in Dresden, I decided to walk in the rain.
I like the way people look when their hair is a little bit wet, and their cheeks are a little bit rosy. I wondered if I looked that way.
I enjoyed the sensation of droplets rolling down my face, and left one on the end of my nose for as long as I could stand the tickle.
When I finally reached my place, shedding my wet clothes reminded my of my youth, when mum would usher all soggy children straight to the laundry to remove our wet clothes. We would dry ourselves off, and stand in front of the super-turbo-V8 gas heater at our family home until we were all toasty. One of my absolute favourite things is to put on clothes that are still warm, or better yet, to sleep in freshly clean sheets that have just come off the washing line, dried by the sun.
For those who don't know, Australia has a great tradition of washing lines, the most prominent (the only?) one of which is called the Hills Hoist
by a South Australian inventor in 1956). I would almost say it's an icon of Australian-nessness. Believe it or not, I actually miss hanging my clothes out on the line on a lovely summer day, knowing that everything will be dry and fresh in no time. A dryer is certainly convenient, but sometimes, my clothes change size, or colour as a result, and that is just frustrating.
I put my erbs out on my window sill overnight for a good drink too.