The rain stopped. As if to sound "All Clear" the bells of Swindon's old town hall made seven dull clangs in the distance. Almost immediately an excited little bird settled on the telegraph wire across the back yard, chirping happily. People began to appear, pedestrians trying to carry on as if nothing had happened. Shortly after the insistent sirens and flashing blue lights of emergency vehicles barged through the traffic that had dared to continue their journey.

The price we pay in Britain for all those sweltering hot summer days is a short sharp electrical shock. Actually our thunderstorms are quite modest compared to those you can witness in some parts of the globe, but they appear out of nowhere, always unexpected despite the warnings of television weathermen.

I'd been playing my trusty old electric guitar, putting out riffs, harmonics, and long bends, all finished off with accentuated vibrato. Just the other night some guy passing my home ventured the opinion that I was a rubbish guitarist - I'm better than you'll ever be buddy - but last night the great Norse Thundergod had spoken. Modest or not, it isn't fun or safe to be caught by a British thunderstorm and for that matter, it isn't wise to leave your consumer electronics switched on. Besides, with nature giving us a free firework display, my attention was no longer engaged by music.

The rain had come down in a torrent. A layer of splashes and bouncing raindrops was six inches deep on the tiles of the roof below my back window. I spotted others in the neighbourhood like me, watching the rain from their windows, enjoying this brief respite from the humid evening. Others did however get quite wet. One young lady trudged along the alleyway with her top revealing rather more than fashion intended. You see? Thunderstorms aren't all bad...

But Not Always Good

Definitely a muggy night. My home can get a bit warm and stuffy at the best of times, never mind daytime temperatures over thirty degres and high humidity. What made it worse was repeated thunderstorms during the night. At least my critics won't be outside the house tonight. Now if I could only switch these thunderstorms off, I could get some sleep.

Forget The Rain

This is the time of year when you can spot those who've been on holiday. In Swindon a suntan is unusual, to say the least, but it's always the same people who go abroad to sunny places. Obviously they're the ones with money in their pocket. I'm struggling to pay for food for the week, never mind a bus ticket down the road. In fact, the last time I went into a Job Centre with a suntan I was investigated. there was bloke following me around aty a discreet distance watching what I gopt up to. And they stopped my money that year too. I hadn't even left the town once, but then, their argument is that the government insist that unemployed people must be willing to travel to work for an hour and a half even if they can't afford to. That's the reality of being unemployed you see. MP's seem to think we all get a suntans at public expense.

Thing is though - I can't help wondering how they feel about spending hundreds of pounds to suffer the aggravations of air travel and foreign languages, only to discover the weather's been just as good here? Oh yeah... I forgot... They've got a suntan.