The Rain King

I drove up to Bristol from Southampton this morning, and am now watching the rain sweep up the Avon Gorge as I sit drinking a coffee after lunch.  There is a diagonally-sloping wooded valley opposite us, from which tendrils of water vapour are rising, as if in some rain forest in Papua New Guinea.  I should probably be listening to Obscured By Clouds.

At least, I assume it's vapour, and not smoke.  Perhaps the foresters are burning brash down in the valley bottom.  It's curious, how making fires has gone from an unremarkable, everyday necessity to a cause for comment, even concern.  Rather like smoking...

It seemed a good moment to give this gent an outing.