Hello Sir, is that your shed causing a disturbance?

Hot news on the rumour mill just in. The supposedly inseparable trio of Wind, Rain and Cold have sensationally split only a month into their Winter tour. Wind and Rain have formed a new group going under the working title of “Global Warning” citing meteorological differences. Cold is looking to pursue a solo career by leaving the UK and retreating to the shrinking markets of the poles where there’s still an icepack to freeze.

It’s been a balmy week in more ways that one. The wind yesterday ripped through leafy Bucks like a wife through a joint account. We’re calling it the day of a million splinters as trees, fence panels and entire sheds have rolled down the road with barely a nod to the highway code. Driving back from Reading last night was rather more bark-y and diversionary than I remembered, and the car has suffered a light battering from low hanging branches and previously earth bound garden products. As the fifth watering can crashed against the windscreen forcing me to emit a small scream of terror, it was clear this was no ordinary storm.

I was relating – in detail – my long and event filled journey home to my friend who stopped me mid flow to explain he’d never even got home last night. That epic Pennine crossing from Reading to Leeds terminated abruptly in London which was both the wrong direction and logistically tedious. I sympathised as much as possible for a man facing the prospect of ordering eleven new fence panels. This makes me feel partially responsible for the deforestation of the what remains of the Amazon rainforest.

Aside from the gaping holes in what used to be a structurally sound, if rather weathered, fence, further evidence of the storm can be seen on the roof of the barn. Or – to be more accurate – not to be seen since some vital weatherproofing component (flashing? Tiles? Cosmic Filter? I dunno, something like that) has not only left the building, but seemingly was last seen accelerating over the county boundary.

There was a very real prospect of yours truly having to scale a rickety ladder and have a painful accident whilst attempting to fashion a repair. I considered instead sending the kids up tied to a very long pole but once my wife had applied the power of veto, we called in a professional. Which considering the fact that ownership of a chainsaw and a mobile phone is a three day route to permanent financial security is likely to cost me more than the arm and leg I’d have lost, had I attempted it myself.

Still, could be worse. I was intensely gratified to discover that the beer fridge has been undamaged during these worrying times. And after a hotel experience broadly in line with Psycho, the contents of that fridge were in great demand.

But that’s a story for another day until which I shall leave you with this: Considering the chaos dispatched to all corners of the UK by it being a little blowy outside, what do you think will happen if the forecasted snowfall (or “Cold Revival Tour” as I’m thinking of it) dumps a couple of inches next week?

I’m formulating a strategy around a good book and hiding under the duvet until spring.

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