the blustery day
It was a bit windy here this weekend. East Anglia (which is where Cambridgeshire and my home reside) is extremely flat, so it must have been a real treat here this weekend. In Northampton, the wind howled and rain poured down on us. I sat in the living room next to the big patio doors, watching Paul's fence buckle and heave with the wind. Paul was sitting at his desk facing away from the window, so his main indication of how bad things were getting outside were the sounds coming out of me. The afternoon went something like this:
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, the fence is just moving around a lot."
"That conifer bent right down to the ground."
"But nothing's tearing apart in my garden?"
"That fence is really bendy!"...etc.
Despite my false alarms, part of the fence did manage to come loose and had to be nailed back up again when the storm passed. Very luckily, all of Paul's conifers and roof tiles remained intact. I'm now convinced that someone is trying to remove England from the face of the earth - first earthquakes, and now hurricanes. Okay, so the earthquakes were a pathetic 2 or so on the Richter scale and that wasn't exactly a hurricane, but I'm still on the lookout for plagues of locusts and frogs showering down on us. England must have done something bad lately, and I can only assume that it has something to do with Atomic Kitten (who are indescribably evil).
I leave you with this masterpiece: Pete's sculpture. Don't say I never bring you any culture, bacterial or otherwise.
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