Around the ‘witching hour’ it woke me up. Some torrent of air was cascading across the world and suddenly I was no longer safe asleep.
It came with a booming. A long exhale of frustration that was meant to punish. Too long had they been in their beds, wrapped up against the elements. On this night, roof tiles would fly, trees would fall, and ships would claw against the surface of the sea, pleading.
I lay in my bed, incapable to drowning out the thing outside. It was a giant that was walking the world. It was a Titan come to take revenge and, while he wandered the streets and fields, I counted to twenty; a mantra that had long-since failed.
When I woke in the shallows of morning, the world was still there. No tiles had been taken, not trees broken, and only somewhere else had a ship lost it battle of wits with the wind.
Out here on the edge of the golf course in our “hut” we seem to be in one piece after a rather noisy night. Wooden houses surrounded by decking make scarily loud creaking noises in high winds.
We’ve even stood the test of floods before now….mind I did think at the time, during the torrential rain that should it have gotten worse, our home would serve well as an ark 🤣
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Hang on in there. Ship ahoy!
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