Why does it always rain on me?

Alec and I walked to the nearby village festival today.

This is a journey that would take me roughly ten minutes at a fast walking pace. It takes me half an hour with Alec, mainly because it takes us along a main road and if there's one thing Alec loves, it's watching cars go past.

Part of me is thinking, if cars going past make him happy, then why shouldn't it take half an hour? The A-type part of my personality is wanting to get to our destination as quickly as possible. Then  in float some philosophical thoughts about how ten years ago, after Alec's near-fatal accident, the thought of him ever walking again was amazing, let alone pootling for several miles under his own steam. So I let him watch for cars, but at the same time I'm saying 'Walk AND watch, Al, walk AND watch...'

The gorgeous sunshine makes a dawdle worthwhile, and as we arrive at the packed fair, I text Alec's teacher, who is there with her grandchildren. She wanders over just as I'm trying to squeeze Alec into the front of a Thomas the Tank Engine ride designed for toddlers. His long legs make it impossible, and so I post him in the back, and she accompanies him with her little ones in tow.

Ah perfect, I think, looking around at the pleasing amount of Alec-friendly rides on view. It starts to spit and I exchange some 'oh, the British weather eh?' looks with some other parents. You can tell Alec would rather be on the waltzer, but the Thomas theme had sold it to him.

Suddenly, the heavens open and it's as if someone's emptied a bucket of water over all of us. This is no quick summer shower. This is a big deal, havoc-wreaking storm. One of the stall tents blows away. Screaming youngsters run for cover. There is a mass evacuation of summer-clad families, all completely unprepared for the rain.

We all take a dash to a stall, but the rain is sweeping in and we're already soaked. Looking at the skies, this isn't going to clear. The exit is five long minutes in the monsoon. Gavin texts to say that he's coming to collect me (with Bobby, who had refused to be dragged away from the computer).

We're all weighing up the right moment to dash from the tent to the exit, except for Alec, whose arm is stretched out towards the rocket ship ride. The rain is a mere trifle. He still wants a go. I buy him a soggy fluffy worm character attached to a long stick to keep him quiet.

We run as fast as we can, considering there is a double buggy and several children in tow. As we pass the tornado-blasted food stall, Alec points hopefully towards the candy floss. We're so soaked by now that any further rain makes no difference and very eventually we find the car, the children are piled inside and the rest of us walk back home,with the rain easing off.

I part walk, part run home to keep myself warm, and am shivering in the porch when Gavin turns up with the twins in tow, having been stuck in queues of traffic through the village.

We get through the door and I rub Alec's hair with a towel.

"And that,' declares Bobby 'Is why I always stay indoors.'