Ends with a lot of rain, it would seem. My camera is full of photos I've taken over the past few days of puddles, heavy clouds, downpours, and a rainbow that shone on us today as the storm that had just passed over went on to blight Wimbledon and pelt Brixton with hail the size of marbles. It's comforting, to sit there with some hot tea and biscuits, with rain pouring down outside, drumming on the roof and running down the windows, making those spiders that chose to hide on this side of it glad they chose the inside. I remember last Summer went by for many weeks without more than a drop of drizzle, so things are quite different there. I don't want to give this up.
Speaking of photos, Astrid was over the moon with her gift. Her favourite photos have surprised me by being some of those which are more moody than scenic, such as one I took of the tracks at Clapham Junction overshadowed by a large dark cumulonimbus, akin to those dark clouds that passed over earlier, distracting me from listening to my FFVII soundtrack.
I've been putting off packing up big things like my clothes, so I've watched a fair amount of TV today. I saw a biography on Samuel Johnson, a man of very many words, and a fascinating documentary on Paris, including much history, and love of chocolate, coffee, quiet spaces and culture, all of which really appeal to me. I love to devour information, and were I more proactive, with more time, I'd have borrowed various books from the Bedford Library at uni to read in my spare time, as I did with a large volume on the history of China last year. Speaking of which, a friend of mine from school and Sixth Form was recently in Hong Kong at the end of her gap year in South China, and she got to see the fireworks at the 10th anniversary celebrations there, before heading off to Australia. I'm jealous, especially since my various ideas for a holiday this Summer have once again faded to almost nothing. I know what I want to be; I just need to spend more time working out how to get there. I can't help but notice that the Real World is creeping progressively closer. As a uni friend from the late Williamson told me at the local Mini-Market yesterday, there's only a year left of our degrees. I get an extension, but still...
Yet, I'd like to think that in a few years, I'll be sitting there, at my desk late at night, with some hot tea, good music, and a feeling of real progress. I wonder if it will be raining outside?
Terminal 4 at Heathrow was evacuated this afternoon because of a 'suspect package'. This is what I mean by paranoid. I remember Nottingham City Centre having several evacuation scares in the Summer of 2005. I doubt such packages are any more suspect than they'd be a few months back, but authorities are spooked. It's even seeming that I was right for once in that the Glasgow bombers may have been the London bombers too. I'm sure that during their time in Paddington Green, they were able to place a suspect package at Hammersmith tube station this morning. Still, at least Jacqui Smith is being less confrontational than her predecessors. Then again, I expect a lot of this paranoia is primarily to give the public a sense that work is being done, because I know that if I wanted to cause chaos, I wouldn't do it in the same way as someone else had just tried, and there is no real way to protect us from terrorism. I expect that, if I were flying from T4 today, I'd be angry about it, as well as faintly cynical.