It seemed such a nice day when we went out to celebrate Dancing in the May Sunshine Day.
Twenty minutes in, and we had been soaked with rain, battered by hail, and terrified by one almighty clap of thunder.
I know I normally have only contempt and loathing for him, but on this occasion I have to commend Marston. It can't have been much fun for a bloke that bald, dancing in the hail. But he stuck at it. His head is still covered with small red spots where the hailstones landed. Still, how happy are those who get battered with hail in search of righteousness. Or something