For today’s writing practice, I’ve modified and used prompt #82 from : http://www.creativewritingprompts.com

“List 10 things you would do on a rainy Saturday. Pick one from your list and free write for 10 minutes.”

I realised that my list depends on what type of rainy day it is, where I am, how old I am and who I’m with.

As a kid in Australia, summers would be spent playing in the pool with friends. Suddenly the big blue sky would cover up within minutes and go black and green. We would hear a deep belly rumble in the sky followed by a bright white crack of sheet lightning which lit up the silvery white bark of the gum trees, sending sulphur-crested cockatoos screeching from their nests.

And down would come the rain!

We would put our boogie boards over our heads and listen to the big, fat drops of tropical rain thumping down on our little styrofoam boards. From time to time we would stick out our tongues and try to catch the rain, giggling and thrashing about in the warm water.

Later on we would jump out of the pool, run out into the street and up the hill, grab some little sticks or leaves and have boat races in the gutter as the water gushed along the side of the road. We would cheer and shout excitedly as our boats nudged and bumped each other, bobbing up and down in the rough, make-believe ocean. At the bottom of the hill, the storm water drains would swallow up our little boats and we’d start all over again.

As a teenager, I used to sit under the patio and watch the storm, listening to the rain pelting relentlessly against the fibreglass roof and bouncing off the thick masses of green hibiscus leaves with their splashes of vibrant red and orange flowers. The leaves on the palm trees would dance in the wind like leafy chimes, swishing and swaying, rustling violently. The pitter patter of water collecting in the garden bed would turn the rich, black soil into puddles of dark, chocolately sludge.

As an adult in Scotland, rainy days seemed to occur more often than not. A dull, white sky would hang stubbornly over the city for weeks on end as though God had run out of blue paint and not bothered to paint the rest of the canvas.

Everyday a constant drizzle would waft down gently, silently drifting through the air, wetting the ground, and me. Everytime I left the flat, I’d have to run back upstairs to fetch an umbrella or a raincoat and then feel silly because no-one else bothered.

Outside I would be surrounded by people marching up and down the streets like ants in their black overcoats, shoulders hunched, faces screwed up in bitter resignation.

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Anyway, here’s my list (not necessarily in order):

• Spend the day inside at Australia Fair, catching up on movies, having lunch at Teppanyaki, browsing the shops and going for coffee at The Coffee Club. (Australia, as an adult)
• Sit under the patio with Yves and watch the storm while eating a big, juicy watermelon. (Australia as an adult)
• Lie in bed listening to the rain (Australia, any age)
• Play Monopoly and eat home-delivered pizza or chinese (Anywhere, anytime — but in Australia, probably only in winter)
• Snuggle up under a blanket and watch DVDs (Europe)
• Curl up on the couch and read a book (Europe)
• Update my photojournal, surf the ‘net and catch up on e-mail (Europe)
• Listen to classical music and do some writing as I watch the rain (Anywhere)
• Get stuff done in the flat (tidy up, sort out stuff to get rid of) (Europe)
• Call a friend and spend the afternoon on the phone, catching up. (Europe, because in a storm in Australia you shouldn’t use the phone.)

What would be on your list?