The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Today on Gran Canaria, it rained something fierce.

Blouses and trousers shook on the clothes lines and were left sodden, stretched and hanging.

I prayed for them not to break loose and fly away. Knickers would be strewn across the pavement, bras caught on flag poles next to a sea of red and yellow and socks crouching in dirt-ridden gutters. Thankfully the pegs stood strong.

Children came to school with giant overcoats and umbrellas, ready for an indoor break time and the rescheduling of after-school stuff. They said their match was cancelled, so why wasn’t English?

I couldn’t really explain why.

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