Rain scent

Being in Old Street during rush hour is no laughing matter. The tube has been closed down as a result of the high volume of customers and the roads are completely gridlocked. I'm on a bus which is literally crawling its way back to Highgate. I'm sitting down but I have an arse in my face!

I was in Old Street to do some trouser shopping and was thankfully successful. The shop didn't have the pair I wanted in my enormous weeble-like size, so they're making me up a pair specially. The power of telly!

I've spent the rest of the day working on my vows and in meetings with the production company. We're slowly getting there, although the weekend is going to be spent filming and rehearsing 10-10pm, and then suddenly it will be the wedding week and all manner of stuff will no doubt suddenly crop up.

On my way East on the tube I overheard the most surreal conversation. Two young, sharp-suited geezers were talking in those loud Essex accents which only sharply-suited geezers can talk in. One of them suddenly said. "I'm not looking forward to going in tomorrow, but I am looking forward to going in even though I'm not. Do you know what I mean?"

His mate's dry delivery made me snort out loud; "Not really mate..."

To make matters more bizarre, his mate didn't elaborate. There was a lengthy pause, before the mate spoke again:

"God, you're thick!"

It's rained today. Good for the flowers, I suppose, but I'm plainly hoping for something a little nicer next weekend. That said, the rain has brought with it the most delicious scents. The combination of rain and blossom, I discovered today, is a long-lost scent from my childhood. The smell of playing out in damp sand pits, and having to get back home before dusk, or tea.