I never quite realised how much hail hurts. Sure, it probably should have crossed my mind seeing as it is tiny pebbles flying from the sky, but it always seemed a bit of a ridiculous prospect to me. I mean seriously, why wouldn't you just have snow?

For those of you who live in Perth, only you can understand the sheer stupidity of our weather. People always talk about how we have such great weather (okay, maybe they don't) but I really don't see it. At least the other states have set weather - Melbourne is ridiculously cold and Queensland is ridiculously hot. But do we get that? No. It's like Mother Nature simply cannot make up her freaking mind - one minute it is beautiful sunshine and the next it is pouring with rain (but never fear, for five seconds later it will be sunny again). Not only does it make it beyond impossible to pick an outfit that will not leave you sweating one minute and freezing the next, but extremely difficult to plan to do just about anything. It was this horrible consequence that left me in the terrifying situation I found myself in earlier today.

This morning I looked out my window to clear blue skies and beautiful sunshine, and got it in my head that the weather report was in fact wrong and that no storms were to come today. If I had cared to look closer, which I of course did not, I may have seen the tell tale signs. The water soaking everything outdoors, the storm clouds just a little to the left and the potted plant thrown on the ground after raging storms. This was, of course, one of Perth's pretend good weather, and if I had only looked a few minutes before I would have seen pelting rain. Nevertheless, naive that I was I decided to go for a walk. I can see you already forseeing the horrible consequences of my momentary stupidity (okay, maybe it was a bit longer than a moment) but bear with me a little longer.

So, where were we? Ah, I had on my flimsy sweater, no more than an act to content my mother with no actual warmth, and my ipod in my pocket, and with these alone (no rain jacket, no umbrella) I set off into the wilderness. I am not one to write horror stories, so I will not lull you into a sense of security only to rip it away from you. It may seem as if everything in hunky dorey, and for a good 10 minutes (enough time to get me a fair distance from my home) it was. The sky was clear (at least, in the direction I was facing) and the birds were chirping (probably more so in warning than joy). Suddenly, ripping into my Ben Lee reverie, a massive, bloodcurdling roar ripped through the sky. I do not believe I have to tell you what this was. But of course I will. It was thunder.

For most thunderstorms, the ones that people like, it is more of a distant rumble, a faraway flash. You sit rugged up in your houses and enjoy the show, getting sheer joy simply out of the knowledge you're not out their in it. You complain about how we don't get nearly enough good storms. When some chainmail questionnaire asks you if you like thunderstorms, you write with glee how much you adore them.

You haven't truly experienced a thunderstorm until you're smack bang in the middle of it.

That wonderful distant rumble becomes a spine-chilling roar, surrounding you on all sides, as you turn, with your heart beating to stare at the rapidly approaching black clouds threatening to unleash their stores with every passing minute. The light flashes to the side of you, just out of your line of vision, and you spin, dazed, trying to figure out how close it is. The trees around you seem to mock you as you remember all of those lessons about not being near trees or mobile phones when in a thunderstorm. Then suddenly, when you think things can't any worse, the rain comes. Not just that light spray that sometimes falls and people dance in joyfully - this is the mother droplets, splattering against every inch of your body and drenching you to the bone. I run as fast as I can back towards my house, or at least the direction I think my house is in as the rain is making everything hazy and white. But then the rain seems to thin out and come down a little faster, turning into more of a sprinkling then a downpour. Yes, it will soon all be over! How silly I was. How very silly.

Now cast your mind back to the beginning of this story and you will remember me talking about hail. "But Miss Moi, you haven't even mentioned hail yet!" True. Which is how you know things are about to take another turn for the worst.

The rain is coming down faster and faster, biting my skin with it freezing cold teeth. It seems to be getting harder and harder, until I realise in a moment of sheer panic that no longer am I being pelted by rain - little white pebbles are falling from the sky. You would probably thinking that because of their tiny size that they may be almost soft, not painful at all. Oh. My. God. These things hurt! It's like being pelted by baby bullets from all sides, continiously. And not only are they rocks, they're ice cold rocks. Ice + Velocity + My Skin = OWWW! It's simple physics.

There is a happy ending to this story (yes, it ends, I know it seems like you've been reading forever). Through all the blood, sweat and tears, I managed to crawl back home and into a steaming bath. I drank hot chocolate and listened to the storm outside.

Don't you just love thunderstorms?

xx Miss Moi

-James Whitcomb Riley