Paint The Whole World

Travelling to work yesterday evening I wasn’t paying proper attention. Hence it escaped my notice that the train I was riding on was due to terminate at Cannon Street station rather than Charing Cross. When I realised the error, I rationalised that it wasn’t the end of the world and that a walk along and across the river to the office wasn’t going to kill me.

This was reckoning without our extraordinarily random summer which meant that the spell of bright sunshine which greeted me as I emerged from the station quickly turned into a deluge. My only protection was the world’s most inadequate umbrella which also happens to be the first one in a decade I haven’t left somewhere within five minutes of buying it.

As the rain continued to hammer down as I walked across the Millennium Bridge, I was able to look left and right along the river Thames and marvelled at what a sight it was, even with leaden skies and steadily growing pools of water by my feet. Only the challenge of manipulating the umbrella and both the camera at the same time prevented me from taking a picture there and then.

Once across the other side and walking near Tate Modern the rain eased but didn’t cease. Nonetheless, though a gap in the clouds the sun streamed through. Rain and sun together? A five-year-old child could tell you what that meant. This time it didn’t matter how wet I was going to get. This was one snapshot which was worth any sacrifice. A moment which I was glad I was there to capture. All because I wasn’t paying attention to which train I rode into town on.

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