In such weather, getting to work is unpleasant. If you don't have you're own transport, you have to hope that the bus shelter can protect you from the worst of the elements. And then you have to spend your shift in damp, uncomfortable clothing.
Yeah, we have a car.
I dashed to the car, pressing the button on the key on my way. Wet as it was, I just hoped I hadn't hit the button that locked it.
Behind me, Julie locked the front door. Turning to leave, she hesitated. The damn gutter was overflowing, sending a steady stream of rainwater onto the front path. Easy enough to dodge most times, but the wind was blowing the water back and forth. No matter which way you went, you just knew you were going to get a lump of water down the back of your neck.
Sure enough, as I dived into the driver's seat, I heard my wife make a sound of disgust, closely followed by a clang as the gate was hurriedly closed after her.
We sat in the car for a moment, looking out at the rain coursing down the windscreen. What a nasty day.
I hit the ignition, and the car rumbled into life. We reached for our seatbelts, and fumbled for the clasps at our sides; our coats kept getting in the way.
As we moved off, we reflected silently that it was a bloody miserable day to be going anywhere. But even then, going to work wasn't a pleasant thought.
Visibility was poor, what with the wind driving the rain straight onto my window - I could hardly see if there was traffic coming or not.
After driving for a while without speaking, Julie muttered, "horrible weather," and lapsed into silence once more. I laughed to myself, thinking of the Monty Python song 'Always look on the bright side of life'. I began singing an appropriate snippet, only to be interrupted by Julie.
(she was joking, by the way.)