There's something just so grey about a wet Swindon. No other place has it, this coating of grey mucus. You can see it across the pavements and traipsed into buildings. I have no idea why it's like that. Anywhere else gets wet or muddy or both. This place kicks up... something else.

I hate thunder and lightening. It's not a fear, because that implies I'm cowering in a corner, drooling incessantly about how the sky is falling and the clouds are blowing shit up with Nimbus Farts. I'm bloody close to that state sometimes, but not through fear. Oh no. I simply hate it.

The rain does strange things to people here. Driving becomes a tad bit too casual for my liking. The rhythmic beating on a windshield may be one monotonous thing too many and it pushes the Swindon brain into a kind of porridge. Accidents are uncommon; a higher sense of awareness is required for survival.

If there's rain first thing in the morning, Swindon centre basically shuts down as people simply cannot be bothered. Find yourself a big umbrella, a pair of tough army boots and a long coat and go see Swindon in the rain. Sometimes you have to see that space in between to see the rest.

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