I awaken to the heavy beat of rain, coming down in sheets from a leaden sky. It's not going to stop at least until evening, and there are wide, deep puddles on the roads and pavements.
No wind; so the rain seems to drop with more intensity and brings a strange warmth and cheer to the heart on a dark August day.
In the post office queue, everyone is looking quiet and glum. An elderly man beside me says, "Here, I can see from your face that you're lovin this weather."
That makes me smile and I reply, "Terrible summer eh?"
He's wearing a wee woolly hat and a rain jacket and his face is full of good humour and a bright smile. "Och well, it's great for making the grass grow. Great weather for the ducks, eh?"
I laugh along with him.
"Ye cannae let it get you down! It'll be good for something," he says.
"Suppose so." And we shrug and nod in agreement.
Under the canopy of the outdoor shops at the centre, men and women are waiting for a more intense downpour to let up a little before continuing on their way. I wait too, watching the raindrops bubble and splash in the puddles and listening to the incessant drumming above our heads.