Brilliant Disk Appears in London Sky

Well, after the umpteenth day of rain, the sun has decided to finally show it's face.  But it's only here to tease us, because the rain is due back this evening. Then it's another four days of rain.

Yesterday, it would piss down for an hour.  The sun would come out for few minutes and then the next wave would come in.

We went to Walton-on-Thames late yesterday afternoon for the ANZAC Day ceremony there.  When we got off the train we were in one of those sunny spells.  So, we decided to walk the mile or so to the church - big mistake.  We were half way there and the heavens opened.  We made it to a bus shelter and waited there for a time, but it just kept coming down. We had time, but decided to see if we could find a pub to wait it out.  Just around the corner we found The Wellington on the corner of New Zealand Ave.  So, of course, we went to the door.

[Walton-on-Thames had a NZ military hospital that cared for New Zealand soldiers injured during WWI.  I learned later The Wellington used to be called the Kiwi]

Now we were dressed in suits, shiny shoes, and overcoats with red poppies on our lapels.  Looking through the door window, I saw the pub was filled with working men - jeans, pullovers, sneakers and work boots - drinking beer and watching football.  I said to Rob, "Do we want to go in here?"  Silence.  So, I opened the door and in we went.  All the tables were full, but Rob, always hopeful, went for a walk around the pub to find a seat.

I went to the one open spot left at the bar.  The bartender asked what we would like.  I figured wine was probably a no go given our surroundings.  So, I ordered two Fosters.  Now, you might think that was in the ANZAC spirit, but it wasn't.  It was just that that was the only beer I recognised.

Rob finished his tour of the pub and came over and started looking around the bar like he was deciding what he wanted to drink.  I informed him he was having a Fosters.  The game was playing.  The music was thumping and a voice from behind said, "I see you must like this song."

I realised I was dancing on my barstool to the music.  I wondered if this was going to be a "Pricilla Queen of the Desert" moment.  I turned and said with a laugh, "How'd ya guess?"  A bit more good natured banter followed and then he looked at Rob and asked if we worked for the HMRC?

Now, this guy had one of those accents I mentioned previously.  So, Rob had zero idea of what had been said and he went into his accent induced stunned mullet mode.  Once again, it was left to me.  I'm telling you he's going to get me killed someday, if he doesn't tune his ear.

Anyway, I turned and said to the guy, "No. I don't even know what that is."  The guy seemed happy with that and off he went.  I really did have no idea what HMRC was.  So, out came the iPhone and I googled it.  Turns out it stands for Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs.  Clearly they thought we were taxmen!  Our lives had been in greater danger than we had known.

There was no more interaction, not even to ask if we wanted another beer.  By the time we finished our pints the rain had cleared.  The ceremony was due to begin in half an hour, so off we went.  The next wave of rain held off until just toward the end of the wreath laying.  We went to the supper and then it was back to the train station to head back to London.

As we were leaving Wimbledon, across a puddle the size of Lake Taupo, I noticed a large billboard reminding us that The UK was in drought and we all had to conserve water and a hose ban was in place.  I was wearing soaked shoes, we've had weeks of rain, flood warnings are in place across England and Wales and some rivers have already burst their banks.  In drought?  Really?

Apparently the rain is falling in the wrong month. Go figure.

Well, as far as I'm concerned, after these April 'showers' there damn well better be May flowers bursting forth from the pavement!