Petrichor is my favourite word. It's the smell of the rain on dry ground, and it makes me think of dancing in the rain. It reminds me of the day we ran, laughing, through the streets to get to the tents at the jazz festival when the skies opened. When we were and weren't quite yet together. The honeymoon in Greece sitting inside and watching the lightning from our beautiful flat. The day the thunder pealed, and we packed up the tent and headed for a hotel at the end of Le Mans Classic, and we finished the night eating steak and drinking brandy watching the setting sun. The night in Brittany eating seafood on the harbour under the gazebo as the rain pounded on the town square and the waiters made us laugh. The afternoon we watched the motor racing at Goodwood Revival huddled under your umbrella, gasping at the skills of the drivers making their cars dance in the rain.
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Writing short fiction, monologues and plays