Photos to follow
Nothing is more boring than other people's weather, unless it be other people's dreams, so it is with some trepidation that I report a most extraordinary, violent storm that exploded over our village last night (and perhaps other places as well). In addition to the usual ingredients of non-stop thunder and lightning and alarming gales, hailstones the size of eggs rained down on house and garden, shattering our gutters and leaving pock marks all over the lawn. The last time I can remember anything like this was in 1984 when we were still living in Dijon. Very bad day for insurance companies.
As bad luck would have it, the local choral society had chosen last night for its annual banquet under the big top. As the storm lashed the marquee we could hear the defiant voices of the choir singing Je suis fier d'être bourguignon (I'm proud I'm a Burgundian). Meanwhile in our street Jean-Michel, who to the best of my knowledge has never done a stroke of work in his life, only occasionally venturing out in army fatigues to walk the dog, suddenly threw open wide his window and started to whistle - most beautifully, I have to say - a succession of melodies including Ravel's Bolero.
Nothing is more boring than other people's weather, unless it be other people's dreams, so it is with some trepidation that I report a most extraordinary, violent storm that exploded over our village last night (and perhaps other places as well). In addition to the usual ingredients of non-stop thunder and lightning and alarming gales, hailstones the size of eggs rained down on house and garden, shattering our gutters and leaving pock marks all over the lawn. The last time I can remember anything like this was in 1984 when we were still living in Dijon. Very bad day for insurance companies.
As bad luck would have it, the local choral society had chosen last night for its annual banquet under the big top. As the storm lashed the marquee we could hear the defiant voices of the choir singing Je suis fier d'être bourguignon (I'm proud I'm a Burgundian). Meanwhile in our street Jean-Michel, who to the best of my knowledge has never done a stroke of work in his life, only occasionally venturing out in army fatigues to walk the dog, suddenly threw open wide his window and started to whistle - most beautifully, I have to say - a succession of melodies including Ravel's Bolero.
Greetings Barnaby
ReplyDeleteA storm once in a while clears the air and feels great.
I wonder however if there is a change in N. European weather brewing. UK news has been full of flood and storm damage and although so far they have passed SW19 and SW20 by so has the normal hot summer weather
Very much the same over here, Jerry. Like you, we had (until last night) been spared the worst excesses.
ReplyDeleteRe climate change: take a lot of these two photos. http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2012/06/can-this-photograph-of-a-himalayan-glacier-persuade-people-that-climate-change-is-happening/259080/
Depressing indeed Barnaby.
ReplyDeleteStill mrs maytrees commented this afternoon that Wimbledon at least seems a brighter place now than when we first moved here some 30 years ago.
My feeling is though that the world and mankind have some dark times ahead unless we are very fortunate.