A little rain

I spent an hour getting from The Square in Tallaght to Firhouse today by bus because a little rain had fallen and so everybody had to pick someone up by car for fear of them getting wet. To be fair, it was really torrential "sideways rain", (as Mr Gump would have said) for quite a while, but Jaysus, lads: the traffic!

I was tired and not really listening to the students/office juniors/girls from Donegal who were chatting about staff structures in whatever place they were coming from. I had a vague notion they were student nurses, which wouldn't be impossible what with Tallaght Hospital nearby. As usual, I was mildly astonished by their lack of non-medical knowledge as one tried to explain where certain Middle Eastern countries were or would be on her plan for combining future work prospects with an interest in but fear of world travel. She spelled out "Quatar" for her friends. My mind was wandering far away from their conversation when a half-heard remark formed in my mind as "He's ten short of a packet of Major."

What a good expression, even if it never existed before!

Rain spattered me through an open window. The driver leaned out and flagged down a taxi coming in the other direction.

"Are there [traffic] lights broken or what?"

The taxi driver indicated he didn't think so.

"Fifty minutes to get as far as here!" the bus driver said. The taxi man waved his sympathy and drove away in the opposite direction, towards Tallaght.

A tall woman with short red hair was two seats ahead of me. Her hair was wet and small goosebumps rose on the sunburn across her shoulders. Her left hand had either a steel or white gold ring on the ring finger. Another had a fabric band aid. She had no coat.

When I stepped off the bus the rain had all but stopped.