The Day the Rains Came

It came to pass that on this 25th day of January, His Lordship decreed that the time had come that we make a pilgrimage to the west of the city to attend to matters of a financial nature at the furthest flung trading centre in our great city.

It so happened that we went by bus following the circuitous route of the no35, and lo and behold, did the sky not grow dark as night and the rains came upon us, drumming on the bus roof and thrashing against the windscreen in a downpour rarely seen in this neck of the woods. The roads were turned into rivers and the potholes filled to the brim with lethal quantities of muddy water, while a snaking line of red car lights led the way to the altar of consumerism.

Great was the multitude of people gathered in that trading centre, making it difficult to find a resting place in which to avail ourselves of refreshments after our long journey.
But we found a small corner where we did partake of the liquor from the coffee bean and afterwards we did conclude our business.

We returned to our home in the east to prepare a meal of haggis, bashed neeps and chappit tatties in homage to our bard, Rabbie Burns whose birthday we celebrate tonight.