English summer rain

I am well conscious that most of my readers cannot read English, I am even more conscious that the quality of my written English is next to none.
But I really feel like trying this novelty. My English worsens, and I am feeling an urge to go back to England.

Before I start, quick peep at the lyrics of this song by Placebo,

Always stays the same, nothing ever changes,

Yes, I could say that is my life just now…

English summer rain seems to last for ages.

Same in Limoges… that’s a pity because it doesn’t look as nice

I’m in the basement, you’re in the sky,

Guess that’s a true statement, you must be up there somewhere waiting for me...

Next please…

Cool atmosphere here tonight, despite the fact I am feeling a bit miserable... Sorry... But good lights, good sound, and most of all, a wonderful pot of tea!

I've been waiting for it all day!

It's been pissing it down with rain all day!
The sky is dark, and of course, it's still raining! I really hate, loath and detest rain!

Except in some circumstances...

..."Forties, Dogger, Fisher; North West backing South 4 or 5- showers good, then moderate". BBC radio 4's shipping forecast. I absolutely love it! It gives me this great conqueror feeling, a 1900 captain, steaming ahead, heading for far land... I really love listening to France Inter's Météo Marine too, the French version of the shipping forecast. Especially while driving at sunset under chaotic showers... In my subconscious, I must become captain Tom, fighting stormy weather and a rough sea... Strange how old dreams seem to stay secretly alive...

…real summer rain, the country side, in France, the smell of rain on dry grass… The yellow and grey sky, thunderstorm, oh I just love it!

...Walking back from work. Pouring down... again!
I can see the city of London under the rain... people like me, walking with their brollies opened, walking towards the tube stations and bus stops. I can smell that typical underground fragrance. I know it's weird, nobody likes it. Not even me actually, but tonight, I do.

People hopping on a double decker, up to the top deck, it's cramped, the heaters are on, another peculiar smell. Girls dressed in skirts, boys in suits. MP3 players, books and papers... The windows are covered with condensation, kids draw stuff with their fingers. I miss England, my second motherland, or could it be my single fatherland?

Back to life, I'm on a tatty trolleybus. I wander in my dreams again... someone I love expecting me back home, lights on, nice music, a cuddle, a cuppa...

Here I am, back home, three floors, and here's my cat. As usual, he's done f*ck all today! I put the kettle on and wait for my tea to brew... I'm going to love it!

Quite a crap piece of text... but, well, I'm pleased I wrote something, I am genuinely going through all these feelings...

Probably forgetting one...

I am in a desperate need of a shag!