Rain

After a Friday-lunchtime swift half, I exit the pub to find rain and a colleague, one of three smokers, puffing away disconsolately under a turquoise umbrella. We exchange pleasantries and she admits that this is the first time she’s had to stand out in the rain smoking since the ban. I ask if she’s rethinking her decision to maintain the habit and she thoughtfully admits she is. The rain continues to fall. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ I say, ‘I don’t want it to rain on my handbag.’ As she acknowledges how beautiful it is, the smoker next to her, bursts into laughter at my words, and says to his friend ‘I don’t believe I just heard that.’ I trip away down the street, happy to have cheered him with my girlie-ness.