With my collar up against the cold and my hands balled into fists and hiding in my pockets I reached the bus stop. It was open-fronted but covered and people were huddled there, closer to each other than they would normally be. In front of the bus stop, in the gutter, on the road, a large deep puddle had collected and was advancing towards the middle of the road. Every time a car or van or motorbike went past the people stood by me stepped back and I stepped back to and a little wave of water washed up over the kerb and towards us. Most of the cars slowed as they passed. Some didn’t.