Getting from the station to BHASVIC has become something of an Olympic sport as of late. It’s rained more in the first two weeks of November than it should do in the entire month - and the remarkably flood-prone city has been transformed into a hell-scape of deceptively deep puddles and endless mushy leaves.  

Twice today have I elected to brave the wind and rain and bumptious drivers. A misguided venture to the Co-op for my daily meal deal (put up in price again) led to wet feet and a soggy sandwich. Not only did we have to trek a good 5 minutes through a partial monsoon, but do it all half-blinded by the merciless wind and unfortunately blinkered by hats and brollies. It is awfully humbling to leap gracefully across the literal river that has formed in the road only to spring back into it when you spot that car you know will not stop coming at you from seemingly nowhere.  

Once the amenities had been purchased, I soon realised there was no good place to store them. Open the bag and, even if there is space, you have now just let half the Atlantic in. Hold it awkwardly under the coat? Congratulations, your jeans are now soaked and you look like a half-wit. No one wins in this situation and my advice would be just to accept your tuna and sweetcorn on malted bread is not going to be consumed dry. 

The return trip was a tale of the lesser evil with the choice being between wading through the puddle that had formed across the width of the pavement or venturing out onto the road in diversion. I live my life very much not on the edge but I saw those that tried the latter - braver people than I - and can only say that it is a risk you should only take if you have nothing to lose. 

Once you arrive back indoors and have time to assess the damage, you notice them. Leaves - pulpy and usually spread across the ground in clumps - always inexplicably end up splashed on the socks, perhaps even licking the trouser leg, no matter how carefully you try to creep around them. Blame that heavy-footed friend or the jogger, I rather glumly found out they have a way of clinging to denim like dog hair to velcro. 

It wasn’t even over. No matter how prepared I thought I might have been after that quick lunchtime fiasco, doing it all over again in the dark after college was another level of misfortune altogether. Now I could not see the puddles. To bring forth the phone flashlight would have essentially sacrificed the usability of the device for the foreseeable future, and unfortunately in tremendous oversight I’d left my camping torch at home… Needless to say, I arrived at the station with four minutes to spare and not a shred of dignity intact. I can only be grateful that the train wasn’t cancelled and that I didn't slip when trying to board it. 

So, when travelling to Brighton in the rainy season - or at all, really - it is important to note two things. One: waterproof shoes usually aren't, and two: anything on the road that isn’t a car or bicycle or clump of mushy leaves is fair game for all involved.