Bank Holiday Monday Part 2

What sound does the rain make as it falls from the clouds and strikes the ground. Does it strike the ground or does it encounter it gently? I suppose it depends on what sort of rain. It is raining now. Heavily! A remorseless, battering sound! I am sitting writing this listening to the rain. Add in the wind. I am sitting here listening to the wind and the rain. Now it only spots with rain. More gently, soft pattering on the sodden ground. Before it was raining cats and dogs. Streaming down the windows. Occasionally the grey clouds scud across the sky peeling back small patches of light blue before closing them up again, as if to say there you are! If only we were not here you would be enjoying a lovely sunny day. Instead you have got us. We are going to rain on you intermittently throughout the day. So don’t try and do anything outside.

It’s a bank holiday and the day stretches ahead seemingly endlessly. Hours of opportunity to say, no I don’t want to do that but I don’t know what I want to do! Suggestions? A walk? To wet! Cinema, nothing on! So it will go on throughout the day, until eventually as the evening draws in you will look back and think bugger, I have wasted another day. The trouble with a bank holiday on a Monday is that it is effectively two Sundays in a row. That’s an awful thing to have to endure. The key is to do nothing. Do nothing and do not feel guilty about it.

I can hear the fish behind me picking up the stones from the floor of the tank and dropping them back down again. It makes a sort of clicking sound. What are they doing? I guess looking for food, for those odd scraps, which go missing during the main feeding frenzy, and are often the most interesting. The Fish are actually quite intelligent. They recognise individuals and will get quite excited when you come into the room as they are expecting to be fed. They also sleep. If you go into the room at night you will find them floating near the bottom of the tank, sleeping. I suppose they have to, like anything else. Do they dream? Do they get fed up when I turn the lights on at three in the morning, or does the erratic length of the days and nights in their world perpetually confuse them? I don’t suppose I will ever know! But at least they don’t have bank holidays to get through.