A very wicked storm is blowing through southeast England this week. It even has a name: Storm Angus. It’s brought rain on rain on more rain, which is causing severe flooding to lowlands. Gales and gusts exceeding 80mph. Power lines down, rail services disrupted (and not by strikes!), and the creek at the bottom of the hill is ready to break its banks. I’m surprised there’s anything standing.
And the windows have whistled for three days, and we can’t detect any air coming through the frames. Perhaps it’s the shape of the window … that’s the latest suggestion. Or explanation. I reckon it’s whistling because it’s so darned windy outside.
The good news is … there are no more leaves remaining on the trees. No more raking this year. Most of them are blowing easterly, although a few did catch in the corners and crannies of the brick wall. The people living in the big houses up the hill will have to cope them, although I assume they all have leaf-blowers or gardeners.
To all my friends in America, I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving.