There is a little rain that falls between and on the cars and scooters that zoot past in a rush to go where they want and never where they're needed. It bounces and slides off things like ineffectual insults. Deaf, but not unfeeling, some sheep look up from their daily grassmunching lives to stare in wonder at their familiar woolly friends in the skies. Out come the protective umbrellas - to have safe sex with the rain. Everyone's happy because in between the crying grey sheep above there are flickers of brilliant blue and even the odd stray ray of sunlight too. But the only really dry patches to be found are the irregular rectangular shapes hidden beneath parked cars... Oh, if only I brought myself with me today.