I like to think that it coincides with the momentous vote today, that a powerful storm has arrived, just as we returned from having cast our votes at the Village Hall. We hurried into the house as the skies darkened, and soon it was like night outside. Thunderclaps and lightning flashes accompanied the increasing rain, illuminating the living room. The thunder rumbles overhead as I type, perhaps warning of an EU departure, or signalling the uncertain future that will follow a possible exit. Who knows?
If we lived in the time of the Vikings, we would be consulting soothsayers, eager to hear their predictions and interpretations of this storm. But we have the BBC news to tell us why it is stormy instead. And later tonight, we will have Dimbleby, Paxman, and many other pundits, all keen to tell us their own conclusions.
And they are unlikely to mention the storm.