The Sub-Standard uses words and pictures to capture the essence of London's worst August storms ever.
Isn't it bizarre that it can be so wet in Kensington, only about three or four miles as the crow flies, and yet, here, all we had was some light drizzle which promised more but failed to deliver. Three times I went outside hoping to dance semi-naked in the rain. Three times the rain persisted in staying away.
I'm puzzled. I sometimes think Brixton gets a special Caribbean climate, but this is ridiculous.
