Drought declared in Manchester, home of the perpetual rain. Mancunians shake their heads in astonishment.
Gardens are parched dry. Budgeons run out of bottled water. Tankers from Scotland are being hijacked and their precious loads sold on the black market to thirsty southerners.
As dusk falls I stare hopefully at darkening clouds. I go into the garden and look up. They appear to be rain clouds.
Then I feel a blessed sensation. The faintest of raindrops lands on my upturned face.
The Garden, showing signs of the Manchester Drought of 2022
Straight away, I text Oldbutfit in nearby Bramhall.
Raindrop detected in Woodford.
His reply, equally delirious.
Two raindrops here.
I stay waiting for the drought to break.
I wait until darkness falls.
One drop doth not a rainstorm make …
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