I didn’t need to look out of the window this morning to see if it was raining, I could tell by the noise of the cars. As well as their usual humming as they pass by they sang out the squisssshhhhh that the tyres make when they push the water aside to hold their grip on the road.
Traffic used to pass my window at all times of the day – and night. Not so much the larger vehicles now that traffic calming measures have been put in place but the cars are pretty much constant during the day. At night they’re a little more spaced out, I drift off to sleep listening to their distant purring getting louder as they near and then melting away again as they pass by. Sort of like a wave rolling in on the tide bringing in its white horses and leaving bubbles on the sand as it returns to the sea.
As a kid I was frightened of the traffic, let’s face it, I was a tiny little mite, mostly skin and bones, and frightened of pretty much everything. My worst fear from the traffic was being sucked into the void created by a passing bus or huge lorry as we walked along the pavement. I would hold tightly the secure hand of an adult as the traffic thundered by leaving the backdraft to suck you off the curb.
Determined that my girls wouldn’t grow up a mousey as myself, I used to make games of the things which frightened me. As we would walk along, small hands fitted tightly into mine, we would look out for the lorries and wait for them with anticipation. We would dip our heads like attacking rams as they got nearer and then shout “Woosh !” at the top of our voices as we raised our heads and the wind blew in our faces.
Anyway, I have decided that the rain won’t stop me taking photos any more so although I didn’t actually venture outside, I stood in the open kitchen window and took this one of my garden chair reflected in the puddle forming on the table.