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Avant le deluge
Oct. 27th, 2013 07:41 pmWe are forecast a hurricane. I think it's fair to say that, although we don't actually *want* a hurricane, after the level of buildup this one has had, everyone is going to feel mildly let down if there isn't some level of drama. This morning on the hill, the standard greeting among dog-walkers was to ask if everything was 'battened down'. I have not battened down my greenhouse. I'm not sure a greenhouse *can* be battened, though if it goes whirling off over the village shedding glass in all directions, I shall feel terribly guilty.
This morning there was a wild wind whisking over the hill, sending even wobbly old Az galloping unsteadily but enthusiastically between the wildly waving tawny tussocks under a pale blue sky. In between flying clouds, the sun was warm. But now it is calm and still and pouring with rain. I met only one walker on the evening walk, the landlord of the village pub, who turns out to be a hurricane denier. He believes it's all a storm in a teacup.
Footie cat has come in, rather wet and complaining loudly about the weather. He has spent most of the summer enjoying the wide open spaces, and as usual is furious and protesting at the arrival of the rain...
In other news, I signed up for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smallfandombang in the hope that this will provide motivation to finally get that dratted story about Marcus, Esca and Cottia in Dumnonia finished. The good thing is that the word limit is only 10,000 words and I have 6,500 already. But the fly in the ointment is that leaves a lot of plot unexplained, plus I think the archaeology has gone and changed again (tears hair) so I need to revise my ideas on Isca and the settlements west of, again.
This morning there was a wild wind whisking over the hill, sending even wobbly old Az galloping unsteadily but enthusiastically between the wildly waving tawny tussocks under a pale blue sky. In between flying clouds, the sun was warm. But now it is calm and still and pouring with rain. I met only one walker on the evening walk, the landlord of the village pub, who turns out to be a hurricane denier. He believes it's all a storm in a teacup.
Footie cat has come in, rather wet and complaining loudly about the weather. He has spent most of the summer enjoying the wide open spaces, and as usual is furious and protesting at the arrival of the rain...
In other news, I signed up for
smallfandombang in the hope that this will provide motivation to finally get that dratted story about Marcus, Esca and Cottia in Dumnonia finished. The good thing is that the word limit is only 10,000 words and I have 6,500 already. But the fly in the ointment is that leaves a lot of plot unexplained, plus I think the archaeology has gone and changed again (tears hair) so I need to revise my ideas on Isca and the settlements west of, again.
