Would it cheer up all you grumbling Ballymenites who moaned about the Irish weather following my previous post (“That’s one way to alienate your readers,” commented Riho, “write posts complaining about sunburn when they’re all stuck in the rain.”) if I told you that we’re all in the same (waterlogged) boat now?
Yes, today it rained. I worked at the same window, but was warmed only by yesterday’s glowing sunburn. Which, incidentally, wasn’t too bad until I forgot about it when I was vigorously drying my back after my morning shower. Again, ouch. Anyway, I worked, it rained. I finished work, it rained.
That scuppered the plans to go out and see the Victory Day/St. John’s Day party and bonfire, which made me sad because I’d heard they like to jump over the bonfire and burn witches and all sorts of fun stuff like that. However, this is Tallinn, and there’s always something entertaining going on. Sometimes right outside your window.
Like this old boy, for example.
He was either (a) an alien, confused and disorientated, just landed from a far-off planet from which he was sent to gather data about the mysterious human race (like Mork, for example. Or John Lithgow when he was in Third Rock from the Sun), or (b) very, very drunk. Bemused, I watched as he stared at his feet for a while, raindrops pelting down on him and bouncing off his sodden clothes. I look at that picture and the only word that comes to mind is drookit.
It was unclear to me why he took off his coat and hung it on a light. To be honest, I was a little distracted by the fact that he then approached the round plastic thing at the end of a drainpipe (I don’t think I’ve ever had occasion to refer to one of those before, and I find myself at a loss for an appropriate noun), contemplated it for a long moment, stooped down, removed it, and then drank all the rainwater from it!!! By the time I came to my senses and grabbed a camera he had reverted to the original Father Jack-esque Are those MY feet? stance, so I’m afraid you’re just going to have to take my word for it.
Suitably refreshed and impossibly drookit, he walked very slowly and deliberately out of sight, possibly to purchase a new coat and/or call Orson.
Never a dull moment.