North London is humid and Rob White is tired.
"We had ridiculous storms here last night," he says.
"I woke up at 4am and it was like someone switching a neon light on and off in my room.
"Even at the age of 60, that takes me somewhere."
White is aware of the cliche.
"The clap of thunder, the flash of lightning, it is almost lazy as a plot device isn't it?" he says.
"You see it in movies, in books, in plays - it goes all the way back to Greek tragedy.