My walk home in the pouring rain
Year 7 have been looking at Travel Writing in English. They enjoyed the ironic Bill Bryson and were asked to write a humorous piece in that vein.
I looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds were moving towards me. I heard a tapping on the window and sighed. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began showing polka dots as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and I could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees. There was no helping it I had to go home on foot; I’m not very popular so there was no point in asking for a lift. I had to plan this:
Do I run? Do I walk?
It’s too far ill just take a warm, relaxing shower at home. I’m sure I heard the doors cackle and laugh as I took a step outside. As I walked on; my socks absorbed so much water It was like I was wearing sponges, Every item of clothing I was wearing, including my trusty boxers were sopping. I was trying not complain as the rain wasn’t to vicious, famous last words, the rain got even harder; I ran under a tree seeking solace and refuge for the rain. After 10 minutes it grew to a storm well I couldn’t stay so yes I carried on; the suns probably in bed I daren’t wake him the poor thing. If my knowledge proves correct than this is the best weather England’s had in decades. The shivers ran down my spine; my teeth began as a metronome hitting against each other; my hands in my blazer pockets drilling through the bottom looking for warmth as if it were an object. Small blades of rain shot down in squadrons. No matter because salvation presented itself to me! Catching a glimpse of my door through the hedge darting towards it, I flung my drenched bag of my back reached inside only to find id left my key inside my locker! I looked up. the sky was tar black and the large clouds were moving towards me.
