Humbuggeration

All our trees are still standing, which is handy, since we've had to press one into service to rope back the fence.  One length got blown out yesterday, and the one to its south was threatening to take the eyes out of passers-by: we have no street lighting in these parts.  It has been living on borrowed time: when I first came to take a look at the house almost exactly 7 years ago, the fence had been blown down: the Previous Administration got it bodged back up with a concrete spur (which has held) but fence posts, alas, have a finite life, and ours have passed theirs.  We had to replace the fence between us and the neighbours to the east five years ago, and the work was excellent, and the fence posts came with a 25-year guarantee.  The firm is still in operation, and I've added our names to the waiting list.  With more storms forecast for the coming days, I wouldn't be surprised if a few more lengths of fencing went AWOL in the meantime.

Driving was hellish yesterday, more so for Martyn than for me, since I managed to get mine done in what passed for daylight.  I almost got broadsided by a dame in a Jazz emerging with more gusto than care from a side turning in the village, but recognise that I hadn't helped matters by forgetting to put the headlights on.  (Martyn's SEAT has automatic lighting; my meanly specced VW has few such toys - not that this is an excuse.)

The lid of one of our water butts was an early casualty of the storm.  I slapped it back on at one point yesterday, but this morning it was several yards away, stopped by the side gate.  Meanwhile, the wind had lifted one of the watering cans and parked it in the water butt.  How helpful.  I have rescued numerous flower pots from the side path and neighbouring gardens, and have righted the blown-over bay tree, and am at this point even more tempted to hibernate.