With three-quarters of New South Wales water-logged and all of us here at "Riverbend" suffering from a serious attack of 'cabin fever' as the rains continue to fall, it seems only appropriate to read one of W. Somerset Maugham's best short stories, Rain, which was also made into a very successful film.
"... But the rain showed no sign of stopping, and at length with umbrellas and waterproofs they set out. There was no town, but merely a group of official buildings, a store or two, and at the back, among the coconut trees and plantains, a few native dwellings. The house they sought was about five minutes` walk from the wharf. It was a frame house of two storeys, with broad verandahs on both floors and a roof of corrugated iron. The owner was a half-caste named Horn, with a native wife surrounded by little brown children, and on the ground-floor he had a store where he sold canned goods and cottons. The rooms he showed them were almost bare of furniture. In the Macphails` there was nothing but a poor, worn bed with a ragged mosquito net, a rickety chair, and a washstand. They looked round with dismay. The rain poured down without ceasing ... "
Read the full story here. It is part of W. Somerset Maugham's 'Little Stories of the South Sea Islands', published under the title 'The Trembling of a Leaf'.
"... Meanwhile the rain fell with a cruel persistence. You felt that the heavens must at last be empty of water, but still it poured down, straight and heavy, with a maddening iteration, on the iron roof. Everything was damp and clammy. There was mildew on the walls and on the boots that stood on the floor. Through the sleepless nights the mosquitoes droned their angry chant ..."
