Phil and Tara out shopping on a pooey day in Daylesford, Victoria. We step out of a cafe where we've been eating and it starts belting down with rain (and I mean BELTING). We're under a small alcove on the main street at this point but faced with a fair amount of distance between ourselves and where the car is parked. Being young, reckless and in love we decide to go for it. I take Tara by the hand and we start running down the sidewalk, covering ourselves from the wind and rain, me laughing and urging Tara to run faster, her lagging behind with her tiny legs pumping and all kinds of Geordie obscenities being thrown out against the harsh weather (sounds something like "Ahhh keeman pissin' bloody whey aye noo Phil I DOON' LIKE IT!!").
Finally we make it to the car and I'm fumbling for the keys to unlock it while Tara continues to curse and hop about like a loony. With the doors unlocked we tumble into the safety and shelter of the small Holden that we're borrowing, panting and soaked. "Are you okay, baby?" I say out loud.
Staring at her saturated clothes Tara begins "Yeah I'm okay, that was..." when she is abruptly cut off.
"Wasn't talking to you." Says I, staring at my combover in the rear-vision mirror.