In which I resolve never to leave the house again while it's raining

It's still raining. And Nice isn't designed for rain. Everywhere is covered with a thin layer of water. Or, indeed, a deep layer of water, on some roads. This will be important later in the story.

I, stupidly, decided to go and get stuff done. It's just rain. I'm English, dammit, this is practically the driving force behind our cultural heritage. Wanting to escape the bad weather built an Empire. We may not be able to cope with a thin dusting of snow, or temperatures above about 12 degrees, but even our shoddy public transport system manages to mostly cope with the rain. So, I went to the post office (sent out bracelets to their new owner! Yay for selling things!) and then decided, while I was soaked already, I might as well go to the supermarket.

Supermarket sells everything I want, except umbrellas. They've sold out of umbrellas. Really not a country that gets a lot of rain... Anyway, I'm now so wet it doesn't matter much about an umbrella, so I trudge home, slipping a couple of times. (You can see where this is going now, can't you?) I didn't actually fall over til I was crossing the road though. On a red light, just as the traffic lights were about to turn. Lying on the floor looking up at a car about to drive at you is, well, slightly unpleasant. I think I may have broken my leg and my arm - I twisted a bit oddly as I fell. On the plus side, twisting oddly meant that the glass bottles in my bag didn't shatter and stab me in the back. So a swollen painful arm and hurty leg might be prices worth paying. But I'm not leaving the house ever again when it's raining.