Blimey where did that come from, the forecast was decent for today so after letting a small storm pass over I hit Las Vistas beach as the sun peaked from around an average sized black cloud. A few big plops of rain didn’t disturb me or several other swimmers enjoying the calm green flag sea at Los Cristianos. Suddenly a wall of water began to pelt down, no thunder, no lightning, just huge spots covering the sea surface with large crescent splashes dancing a frantic jig. This was like a rallying cry to a good sprinkling of youngsters who charged down the sand to wallow in the mix of sea and rain, although it was difficult to see where one ended and the other began.

The sea was still calm but my vision was suddenly reduced like someone had drawn a frosted shower curtain around me. It was quite exhilerating, to one side I could see people scampering for shelter at the back of the beach, towels and trainers left to sink or swim, and to the other I could just see a few murky shapes out to sea, was that a ship or Noahs Ark? Finishing my swim I pitched up on the beach and grabbed my plastic bag, which had protected most of my belongings, and sprinted with all the dignity I could muster to find cover at the rear of the sand. The disabled changing hut was open and crammed so I joined them as others sheltered below the overhanging lifeguard station watching a river pour down the steps from the promenade.

By now the sun had joined the party and was sending it’s watery rays down to make the scene even more bizarre. I took advantage of a slight lull and walked along the promenade which was flowing well, manhole covers had popped like corks revealing a frothing muddy jacuzzi that wasn’t tempting anyone, it ponged a bit as well, and shops were already sweeping back the tide. I sheltered at The Breeze Inn and finished dressing, I didn’t fancy wading through the yucky water. A few phone calls confirmed that this was a very localised storm, it hadn’t touched Fañabe and certainly not Los Gigantes on the west coast. Wet feet once again in my trainers I began to head through the tunnel, more like a sheep dip, to the old beach, the sand there was nearly covered in one big puddle but at least the seagulls were happy at the rich pickings.

Hovering over Guaza Mountain was another dark brooding cloud heading in so I stepped up the pace and made the Valdes Centre just in time for the next batch of rain. This was a pale imitation of the earlier downpour and soon fizzled out, but not before leaving a terrific rainbow over the roundabout fountain. I was confident that the Arona council workmen and business owners would soon see off the worst effects of the deluge so turned my mind to getting home. One end of the rainbow seemed to arch down onto my apartment balcony, I couldn’t wait to collect my pot of gold, the spell must have been broken by the time I got in because all I found was soggy socks and slippers. Never mind.