Merde, il pleut

One of the signs of becoming a San Franciscan manifested itself tonight.

I was wandering back home after a hard day at the office (it’s the summer, so lots of silly pitches and not enough news) and as darkness fell I felt something wet on my face. It was raining.

You’d think after a life in the UK this wouldn’t come as a shock, but after six weeks in the city I’ve become used to not having to worry about rain. Sure when the fog's in you get the occasional dampness on your cheek, but not rain, honest to god droplets of water out of the sky.

I was so excited I went into the house and got the others to take a look – sad but true.

I’m reliably informed that I’ll see rain a plenty in January, and maybe February if I’m lucky, but for the rest of the year San Francisco is a rain free zone. It’s a pity, because we need it, the whole state is in drought at the moment.

Not that you’d notice it. J was appalled when she visited, so see the pavements being cleaned with high pressure hoses. It’s the kind of behaviour that would cause riots if it was practiced on the streets of Melbourne.

True, the city has started to put up advertisements asking people to water their gardens in the morning, not during the hottest part of the day and to turn off the taps when brushing their teeth. So far the response has been less than encouraging.