Weather. We have it.

There's a thing oft-lambasted in stories where a sudden storm springs up (often “magical”) and forces some plot point. The really lambasted bit is when the storm suddenly blows over and there's sunshine and birds singing.

Since Melbourne just did that, I'm not going to nitpick this when I see it happen in future. From fine sunny weather, to hailing thunderstorm, back to fine sunny weather again in forty-five minutes. I think that's a new record, even for this lunatic city.

Now where's my plot point?

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Australian, wordy, beery, geeky. Should I mention that I talk to myself? (No, don't. It'll just make people nervous.)

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