There's something beautiful about London in the rain What it is I cannot say But grey can be a beautiful colour too And what is more soothing than the sweet sound of raindrops? But as I hurry home, my umbrella hiding my face so that I am just another bobbing canopy, I imagine hopping over a puddle onto Dry ground, Stepping onto a cobblestoned street Shrugging off my jacket and searching through my pockets until I find sunglasses My bag is light, there's a spring in my step There's just enough change in my purse for a pain au raisin Which I savour as I swing by Rue Carnot The clinking of glasses Waft of tobacco Taste of a bitter but satisfying espresso I sing goodbye to everyone as I leave the café Somewhere the old man in his beret is playing the accordion And life in the main square is just people sitting, laughing, drinking It's almost as if time doesn't exist It crawls along at a snail's pace No-one is frantic, there is no air of desperation, There is no last train home to catch Though this idleness often led to restlessness, oh to be idle once again! I scamper down some steps and plunge one foot into A puddle somewhere in Marylebone Oh to be idle once again and not weighed down by a hundred different things I took for granted the days when I felt as light as a carrier bag but I still miss them On a stuffy train home I close my eyes and picture my garden Blooming yellow flowers And plastic chairs on which I sat and read, drifting off into different worlds I could be sad but I smile And I can feel eyes upon me Because no-one smiles on the tube ​