Spectators in a storm
It’s damn near sweltering here in London. Tropical weather, humid as hell.
Inside or out, the heat feels inescapable. And the moist air clings to your form wherever you go.
It’s like we’ve started importing foreign weather now that we can’t take a holiday abroad and experience it over there.
I’m damn glad I’ve not got any WuFlu symptoms – locked up and cooking indoors must be grim indeed.
Having my fan on max doesn’t seem to have made any difference in my flat, so I’ve headed upstairs and am writing this on the roof, where the clouds are keeping me company.
It’s quiet, except for the odd cackles of laughter echoing out from below, and the occasional shouting of a couple having a domestic a street or so away.
The sky looks halfway clear, and there’s a little breeze stirring the trees nearby. Despite the heat, it’s quite peaceful.
Dark clouds may not be smudging the sky just yet, but a storm is brewing. It may not arrive today or tomorrow, but the sky should buckle soon enough.
A few years back in this same flat I saw lightning flash on the horizon, and absent-mindedly climbed on to the roof to get a better view. It took several minutes before I suddenly realised the sheer stupidity of what I was doing.
My friend and colleague Nickolai Hubble thinks that investors today are doing something similar: watching a storm approach, and thinking it’s a spectator sport.