We knew it was coming. We heard the rumours. We viewed the forecast. We looked into the skies. We dashed to the washing line to bring in anybody’s washing that had no owners present to claim it. We compared notes. We went inside our various domains, shut the doors and waited. Not for long. The sky turned coal-black and the rain poured down. Lightening struck nearer and nearer. The thunder came closer and closer until the storm was directly overhead and the power was lost. We opened the doors again in order to breathe. It was the most dreadful storm that nature could deliver until…
…trapped indoors, with nothing but another bubbling artichoke for company, I turned to Facebook, only to discover that the storm was also wreaking havoc in Bournemouth. And Amsterdam. And, of course, their storms were far worse than my storm. I’m not a huge fan of FB but it was fun to spend five minutes comparing meteorological notes across Europe. By the way, I didn’t take this photo – too wet to step outside.
Yesterday witnessed a gathering of old friends in that secret place where the small spotted ponies live. Yesterday saw a confusion of arrangements where no-one arrived at the right time. Yesterday, two of us momentarily forgot we were in the south of France where no-one ever arrives at the right time. Apart from Peter who never goes out. Yesterday there was yet another distressing story of a lost cat, there was a guided tour around a new garden, there was sun and intense heat and there was confusion over lunch, resolved by this writer taking charge of yet another kitchen. Yesterday, Bev had a headache and the only known way home was barred by road works. Yesterday, we laughed a lot which is, sometimes, the only thing to do.
Tonight, there was news of a cat that had been found, an invitation to Sunday lunch and a storm that finally passed.