Very much just another blog

Front seats

with 6 comments

It’s part of our cultural condition to bang on about the weather, isn’t it: because we get so fucking much of it is why. All the time. If it’s not icy then it’s snowing or raining or autumn in abundance, and it’s all glorious – and it all slows the trains.

I’ve got this weather memory I can’t shake. It happened about five years ago, I think, and it had been raining for days. It was summer rain – not cold – just continuous and heavy. I was walking home; my clothes were sticking to me and my makeup had run. I waited to cross a road and a woman who had stopped in her car at the junction looked at me and mouthed the words – isn’t she wet! Yes, lady. Yes. Move along.

But summer rain is glorious. The Writer and I sat on the bed with the windows open, listening to it, music low, reading and smoking weed deep into the night. And then something weird happened: the rain had quietly become a storm. Thunder growled across the sky and lightning whipped through the clouds, lighting everything up and then up, bright and alive for just a couple of seconds at a time. The storm was making its way fast towards us and we turned the music down to hear it approach.

Outside the flat is an open playground where kids play basket ball. Houses and flats huddle ‘round it, like spectators. Above it, outside our window, a great ball of lightning exploded suddenly – as though it were fire – fat and round with tentacles that uncurled and lashed out in every direction. One unwound and reached like a claw through our open window and towards us. I swear it nearly touched us – it was like a hand, reaching out and briefly grasping so close to where we lay that we could have touched it back.

And then, as quickly as it started, the storm died. Burned itself out, maybe. And all we could hear was rain. We were breathless and high. Did you see that? Did you? We ran across the wet floor to look out through the window (stupid? Maybe). The Writer stopped talking. He didn’t have any words, read some Wisden, a few stats to bring himself back to Earth. I could see his chest moving fast.

No one will believe this. No one will believe it happened. But it did and it was the sort of thing that made us feel like we had the best seats in the house. For a while we absolutely did.


Written by elikafm

January 5, 2010 at 3:44 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

6 Responses

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  1. I know someone who was actually struck by lightning.

    It happened a few months ago in central America. She blogged about it here (in addition to a few other mishaps)…

    Sounded pretty dramatic. But still not as bad as her scorpion sting…

    Anyway, what do we conclude from all this? That it’s much nicer to live over here than over there?

    Quite possibly.



    January 5, 2010 at 5:32 pm

    • Holy macaroni! That is EXTREME. It is also PROOF that lightning does zap in through the window. I feel happy (and also cold).


      January 5, 2010 at 5:43 pm

  2. That is lovely writing indeed.
    Although you appear to have missed out a few scared-face-emoticons and an lol.

    LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :O


    January 6, 2010 at 1:13 pm

    • Emoticons and LOLs and excessive use of the exclamation mark are the things of which I am most afraid. FACT.


      January 6, 2010 at 1:45 pm

  3. When I read your blog, I don’t want to stop. Ever. It’s like poetry. NB: In my mind, The Writer looks a lot like Liam Neeson….sort of romantically pained.


    January 8, 2010 at 2:18 pm

    • Think more a Danish Ralph Fiennes and you’re getting close. You can read his stuff here. Five Dials No. 9 Page 26: http://bit.ly/7mAB03


      January 8, 2010 at 3:41 pm

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