I had several ideas for todays post, and was in fact thinking about it when Beautiful Wife came in and reminded me that I was Supposed to collect Middle Son from his school sleepover at ten, and it was half past nine. And Middle Son’s School is two towns away.

So being a dutiful, if slightly forgetful dad, I set off on the Xtracycle to get him. With fifteen minutes to go. The weather was fine, not too hot, but nice and dry, as in fact it has been almost all week.

As I left the driveway, it began to rain. Hard. Which I think is unfair: it isn’t like I cleaned my bike or anything.

Thankfully, I’m British and pessimistic* so I’d grabbed my elderly waxed cotton rain coat on the way out. This coat is the source of much dismay to those more fashion conscious than I -which is to say, everyone else- by virtue of being as old as me and almost as tatty around the edges. But here’s the thing: whenever I use a jacket that passes the fashion police, it tends to have the waterproofing of a sheet of loo roll. When I took this highly unfashionable item off, I was much drier than my more sartorially aware colleagues.

My nice smug feeling almost compensates for the fact it is still raining…

*There’s some redundancy I can’t quite place in that sentence…