Last Rehearsal

I almost didn't go, and that would have been a mistake. 'M' was all set to collect me in front of the Royal Cinema (inside of which the new James Bond movie is playing!), and I was all set to be collected. It took 20 minutes just to get ready, because it was raining so hard that all possible layers must be utilized, especially the huge white London Bus Company poncho. Even with all that, it was not enough. Walking to the cinema, the rain seemed to be coming from the ground up, and from the sky down! Wet isn't half the word.

I stood conspicuously in the porched area of a nearby store, shivering and being splashed by the passing traffic. The thought of a new Bond film so near and so accessible, gave me pause. Maybe I should...but then M's lights flashed, he pulled up, and I scrambled in. Mr Bond was going to have to wait.

The puddles in the road grew into rivers, and made us think of hydroplaning. A dark cloud seemed to hover above our car, pouring down upon it with a will. At Nancledra we stopped for John.

"Y'alright?" he said. I said that I was, and then he said that not everyone was because there seemed to be health issues everywhere. He told us about a stroke, a broken leg, and I think he said someone named Jim had fallen in his back garden and broken his hip. 

"Does the NHS take care of all of that?" I asked from the back seat.

But before I could get an answer, M was pulling up at the church. Somewhere between the curb and the sanctuary we all became utterly soaked. Umbrellas were useless! Blown inside out. Black mascara ran down my cheeks and there was no makeup bag to repair the damage. My thoughts ran along the line of, I should have stayed home in my warm cottage. I should have gone and watched the Bond movie. I should have..

"Hello!" said the friendly voices of several Cornish choir members, all of whom were dripping. "Y'alright?" 

"Oh yes! Lovely!" I said back. "Only a little wet."

Everyone kept their coats and scarves on, because all the large double doors in that church were OPEN and had the storm blowing in through them! It is one of the strategies England adopted during the pandemic. Open windows and doors everywhere - in taxi cabs, restaurants, shops, church services, concerts, wherever there are groups. It makes sense and I'm not complaining. But when you're wet AND cold inside an already cold church - man!

While hanging up the dripping poncho, I heard the thing I had come to hear. The reason for making a scary drive on a flooded road with two of the kindest men in Cornwall. 

They started with American music! Look away, look away, look away Dixieland. I sang along as I remembered singing it in fifth grade, with Mrs. Franklin waving her arms and yelling at Wayne to "Stop fidgiting!" 

Thus did the rehearsal go. Somewhere about halfway through I noticed a woolen blanket sitting on one of the pews. I wrapped up in it, wondering whether people could get covid from sitting in a wet church.

I will find that out tomorrow, for my 'Test to Depart' happens tomorrow night. And soon after that, if wet churches do not give people covid, I shall pack my bags, board a plane, and fly home! 

Sweet.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady

The Island, today