Tuesday, 7 January 2014
Storms and inspiration
Last night I was woken by the sound of thousands of nails hitting my bedroom window. Moll started shivering and pressed closer to me. I lay there wondering if someone was trying to break the window, then realised it was hail.
Minutes later, the room was lit up by a huge flash, and Moll dived under the bed. Seconds after that, there was a slow rumble, then it sounded as if the sky was being ripped apart. The rumbling continued, as did the light show, for what seemed like half an hour but was probably ten minutes – I can’t remember any storm being so dramatic.
Eventually everything settled down, Moll clambered back on the bed and we went back to sleep. And it struck me that this storm encapsulated those really traumatic periods that we all go through, that seem to last forever when you’re in the middle of them, but looking back are just a bad patch. They do pass.
I’m fortunate in living at the top of a hill so we haven’t been flooded, like so many around the country. Mind you, I've just realised that my landline doesn't work as a result of the storm - have you tried getting hold of BT to register the fault? And I've gone deaf so my ears need syringing. Sorry - WHAT?
This afternoon I’m off to bail out poor Echo for the umpteenth time and see what damage has been inflicted on her. Last time it took 50 buckets of water to bail her out.
But on Sunday I had a long walk with a friend. We got so wet on the way back that we just had to keep moving, but after a while it was amazing. We splashed through puddles, jumped over lakes and were so wet we almost became part of the rain. I haven’t felt so alive for a long time, it was incredibly exhilarating.
I asked Fiona if she had any plans for 2014 and she said, “Not really. I just want to make sure I make the most of each day.”
Amen to that.