Here he comes again bounding out the back door, bless him, all speeded up: Buster Keaton at the double. Shoulders hunched he grabs at pegs mouthing curses in the downpour flinging soggy towels and T-shirts into a plastic basket. Too late, you see - once again. Five minutes since the drizzle came then switched to proper rain while he pottered unaware indoors. Now he scuttles for the kitchen freshly drenched, the laundry heavy in his hands bangs shut the door and as he does the rain begins to soften. Then all along my quivering length the droplets gleam, the damp grey blanket of the sky begins to thin and part ...and sunshine comes again.