Abandoning hope, we bunked off to the cinema at midday, there to endure the kind of trailers which do at least obviate any temptation to see the actual films. Eventually we settled in to the story – or stories – about storying which make up the spectacular Life of Pi. It definitely worked, I decided, as I staggered disorientated into the wet and suddenly alien English urbscape, trying to remember where I had left the car, and which road led to out.
On the way home there was a sudden glim of sun from under the heavy lid of the sky. These days none of it can be allowed to go to waste, and I rushed to catch the last drops: