This is my first Paris thunderstorm.
It has not rained properly for weeks, and yet now there is thunder and lightening, just as if the King and Queen of fairies were having a domestic, and there is so much rain that you would think it was raining from the ground up, with huge splashes of water hopping about the surface of the streets, neither falling from the sky nor touching the ground. In the light of the street lamps they look like little glowing crowns suspended an inch above the ground, flickering as they disappear and re-form continuously.
Thunderstorms remind me of home, in fact any sort of rain reminds me of England. I think of Manchester and Liverpool- dark, shiny pavements and grey buildings against grey skies, but most of all I think of the countryside- the Derbyshire hills and the Lake District- stone walls and muddy paths and the black lake, reflecting the storm clouds... it's fitting then, that my first French thunderstorm happened on the weekend I was visiting The Countryside.
I will write about my weekend in The Countryside properly, as I'm sure everybody is terrifically interested in my life, but now I am going to go to bed, if I can manage to sleep this hot, sticky night. The air is close, weighing on me, so I've got my window wide open but the rain is so loud and then every few minutes there is thunder, real rrrrrrumbling, sky-splitting thunder. And lightening. That tree outside my window is worrying me a bit.
Ah. I do love thunderstorms though. Like I said, the rain reminds me of home. I wonder if the skies are trying to tell me something? Maybe the storm clouds have come to carry me home to England.