I watch a documentary. About rain.

I was watching a documentary about rain that I'd taped last night. Well, I'd PVRed it. I still haven't decided what the word for that should be - recorded off the telly would work, I suppose. Isn't it funny that words linger in our consciousness like that? Taping something is so late-90s. It's like totally at least two generations ago of recording stuff.

But anyway - there I was, watching a documentary about rain. It was interesting. Fine, really - it was about rain. They did a bit of schtick about some flood somewhere that was really devastating because it rained loads and houses and that got washed away. The sewage came spilling up out of the ground like so much Godzilla, stinking out all in its path.

A brewery got taken over by extreme damp (condensation being not extreme damp - there's probably a damp scale somewhere, like Richter but more ripply and less wobbly) A brewery worker, one of those people who makes beer, was interviewed for the documentary, giving us a blow-by-blow account of the tension and the excitement as the rains came down and Incey Wincey started to freak out.

"We evacuated the brewery, but we stayed to the bitter end..."

Not even the merest hint of a smirk or smile.