Icing over

The preparations are under way for the ice rink at Somerset House - it's only a matter of time before people get their skates on. I won't be one of them. It's far too slippy. Talking of slips, I wore the wrong shoes today and almost ended up on my backside several times. The next time it pours with torrential rain in combination with autumnal leaf fall, I'll wear the Doc Martin boots.

'Torrential' is almost an understatement for the rain at lunchtime. I went out hoping to catch the red poppies in the fountains at Trafalgar Square, but had to dive into Top Shop with most of the passersby on the Strand when the spit of rain turned into a waterfall. The poor shop's basement flooded with rainwater as well as people within a couple of minutes. I left the shop assistants with mops and cardboard, and braved the rain to head back to the office. I spent an uncomfortable, cold hour as my jeans and boots dried off. An umbrella didn't help much in such a rain.

It blew a gale on the way home. Today was not a cycling day and I happily bussed it in and out of the city with a good book.

Back to the poppies and I was impressed that my place of work called for a silence at 11am and all keyboard-tapping sounds ceased. It's hard to remember the 11th hour when the brain's deep in work so I was grateful for the interruption. Remembrance is important.