A thin moaning whisper, hissing through gaps, sputtering through trees and racing over roof tiles, strumming cables.
Booming and bursting on buildings, howling and roaring onwards. Thuds and thumps peal from fallen bins, clanging gates fire salvos into the night.
The rhythm continues to erratically bang and clunk, knock and pound. A huge throb of air and rain smashing and whirling around, attacking every window with venom.
Tossing and turning, earful of drips, of gaps, of damage.
Us too!
I’ve told you before about eating baked beans for supper…
It’s been rather nice here actually.
I am so surprised that we didn’t lose any greenhouse glass.
Didn’t know you knew him so well graybo – he takes after his father I hasten to add.
We had a Firethorn tree blown down, normally it is full of birds eating the berries and I could have sworn they looked confused this morning realising they were eating berries only inches above the ground.