On the edge

The edge of a typhoon hit last night, and it rained. It rained and rained. Then this morning, the clouds lifted and the mountain tops played hide and seek.

And down the valley the roadside trickles became streaming waterfalls, sweeping across the road, making driving somewhat hazardous as on the other side is a sheer drop to the paddy fields thirty metres below.

But the best thing, the marvellous, the thrilling thing about the rain - or the aftermath of rain - is that I am writing - real writing, writing my novel. And it feels good.

Must be the Scottish in me, I need cool weather and rain to write.

Aa' the best.