All week the talk had been how
it\'s supposed to be nice at weekend
wall-to-wall sunshine, twenty plus degrees,
the summer was finally arriving.
By Friday evening there\'s not a cloud in the sky,
the sunshine makes inner-city Salford
feel like Spain or the Sahara,
the beer garden is packed,
loud chatter, lager and laughter.
On Saturday the whole country is having barbecues,
sizzling sausages and sun-burnt skin,
children have water-fights in the street,
and the tinny pop music playing
can be heard three streets away.
On Sunday the sun still shines,
people bask in the wonderful weather,
the last of the barbecue food
will be burnt to a crisp later
as the summer parties continue.
Late Sunday afternoon the skies darken
churning to grey-black as
dark clouds loom overhead,
then the rain starts to fall.
Minutes later its a down-pour.
I stand in my doorway, transfixed,
looking out at the lashing rain,
I extend a hand, catching the rain-drops
in my palm, smiling to myself, happy at last,
that the weather has finally improved.