There will be weather.
This is the import of all the messages that have flooded the internet and the news broadcasts these last two days. The chatterers have screeched what they hope will be bad news at the top of their lungs – they’ll be so disappointed if no-one’s fence blows down. Likewise the emergency services are gearing up to pull trees off houses and houses off residents. They, at least, have some stake in the game.
We have rolled up the old awnings that tear in high winds – and cursed the fact that this will hasten their expensive replacement. We have put all the lawn furniture into the shed, and staked the rose bushes tighter. I advocated for tripod masts like a British battlecruiser but the gardeners saw it as overkill.
The damn cat – the most sensitive organism in the place – has opted to curl up on an outside sofa, exposed to the wind. I think it is bravado and misplaced contempt upon his part, but I will let him in when he realises his mistake. Master Of The Universe and Captain Of The Storm is all very well, but when you weigh 3 Kg it is a bit hard to maintain the facade.