Jonathan: Exceptional high tides right now – a combination of spring tides, low atmospheric pressue and an unrelenting wind from the south east. Our own beach this morning was reduced to a narrow sliver of sand at the foot of the dunes, the high-point marked by a line of bladder-wrack. Over in Eriskay, a small prominotory was within an inch or so of becoming an island – a narrow neck of land with sea-water between the blades of grass.
Denise. There’s nothing special about that at this time of year, as J has just remarked so fulsomely, but what is a bit odd is that it is doing just that as I’m sat here in the upstairs office at the computer! Looking up … there’s unseemly brown stains in the ceiling with water drops forming at the plasterboard screws. And since there’s no plumbing in the loft space above me, that means only one thing – the roof is leaking. J’s saying it’ll be from that severe gale we had a few weeks back (see Scary), which will have shaken the dormer (which the office is in) enough to crack the seal where the flat roof meets the sloping roof above it, allowing wind to drive water on the flat roof into the crack and thus … I remember the same happened in the great hurricane of January 2005 (just a few months after we’d re-roofed the house!): so I suppose the gusts, in the severe gale a few weeks ago, were more than 90mph. Anyway, that’s another job on the J’s urgent list: emergency repair with that sticky grey paint stuff.
Jonathan: Yes February – not April (as TS Eliot would have it) – is the cruelist month. February teases us with a few settled days of warming sunshine, daffodils fit to burst into flower, and that perennial hope of spring surging in our veins … and then here we are again, buffeted and bruised by wind, the world all a weary grey and if it isn’t raining right now it’s sure to make up for that oversight very soon!