Arriving in one's home town when it's raining is the perfect way to see it.A couple of weeks ago, as Australia headed to the ballot box, I flew into Melbourne. In the rain.
I texted a friend in London: "It's raining. Love a wet home town." And he texted back: "Not sure if I understand that - but lots of UK towns are wet."
I wanted to explain what I meant and in truth, I wasn't quite sure myself what I loved about it.
I texted back: "It's that mistiness rain brings - a bit like memory."
So rain blurs the edges of things, which is beautiful, because there's such a sharpness about returning to a place you left two decades before. You know it at its very heart. But in another way, you don't know it at all.
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