I stepped out of the building onto an unexpectedly glistening street. The lightest of rains lingered, not nearly as intimidating as the thunder rumbling from what sounded like just around the corner.

But pedestrians were walking carefree, stowing umbrellas away into handbags, so I set out for my coffee, conversation and takeaway sandwich.

Beyond ensuring that my sandal-clad feet avoided particularly large puddles, the rain that had fallen (without my awareness) was more of a treat than anything else. We have been promised the downpour for days, with the assurances that it would signify that the heat has finally broken. The humidity, the haze, the lethargy - it was all supposed to retreat for a few days once the rain came.

That it didn't necessarily feel any less humid, hazy or oppressive should have been my clue. But I had caffeine on the brain and just kept on walking up the street and into the kitchenware shop where I met Beth before our venture to Starbucks.

Coffees ordered, we settled into the small round table directly in front of us and chatted for a moment or two before hearing the shrieks from the street. Turning, we took in the sight of streaking lines of water falling from the sky. It soon became an absolute downpour, with the brick street splashes and frantic evasion techniques from passersby. I saw umbrellas, hats, jackets, even a frisbee held above peoples' head as they scurried by.

I turned to look at Beth, who was taking in the sight with a surprised expression.

"Yeah, so you want to sit for a few minutes?"

"Um, yeah."

Well, the heat broke...