One of my somewhat hubristic assertions has always been that I prefer ‘proper’ weather: rain should drench; sun should burn; the wind should be violent: there should be no boring dreich compromises. I am now regretting such idiocy.
A series of bad storms hit us recently, serious enough to have names: Dudley, Corrie, Eunice… with Gladys approaching as I write. Dudley was my nemesis. The house shook, the tiles flew like falling leaves, a fence was flattened; worst of all, the electricity was cut off for two days. I could cope with no lighting, heating, hot water, or telephone. I had a bag of half-used candles so I could read in the evening, but that was daunting because my chair is under a window and the curtains billowed out like…
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Scotland (Digital) - 1 Issue, May - June 2022