I would like to be writing about the visit of a friend, or family member. Perhaps someone at a loose end, deciding to drive up to Beetley and join us for the last day of the long weekend. But our visitor is not a person, it is a storm. It is a public holiday in England, so naturally the weather is enjoying spoiling any potential fun or enjoyment.
With the new trend of naming weather fronts, we have Storm Katie lashing the southern half of the UK, and once again making us realise the full force of Mother Nature. I think that these names are not frightening enough. Nobody expects Storm Katie to be anything that bad. Now Storm Thor, or Storm Damien, that would give us a real indication of what to expect. Nonetheless, Katie is doing her worst. Winds in excess of 100 miles an hour, torrential rain, and dark skies. Our small house feels like being on the bridge of a ship in the Atlantic, as water lashes against the windows, and the winds buffet the walls and the chimney.
The garden is feeling the force. Twigs and small branches are flung down from the oaks, shrubs and bushes bend backwards, and the last uncollected leaves of autumn swirl around, sounding like the crackling flames of a fire. Outside, the village is quiet. No walkers, no children playing, and no seasonal jobs being tackled. Traffic is absent, as nobody wants to venture out into the force of Katie, in the more exposed countryside nearby. Further afield, flights are cancelled, trains and roads disrupted, and coastal communities are receiving yet another battering.
Of course, Ollie doesn’t care about Storm Katie. To him, it’s just another day in Beetley. So later on, I will don protective garb, and struggle out with my canine companion for our long walk around the local fields and woods. Thanks, Katie. I could have done without you today.