Waiting for the storm to pass

People started running, for buses, taxis, trains, with umbrellas no defence, against the wind and rain, a drowned rat cycled past, then disappeared down a lane, when lightening flashed, I dashed, hoping to dry out again. I shot past the pub’s “welcome” sign, “No Prams or Pushchairs Inside”, then scrutinised the menu, for something not micro’d or fried, with my paper, pint, pasty, and peas, I sat by the warm fireside, waiting for the storm to pass, and brighter weather outside.