The calm before the storm
We are under a “Status Orange” storm alert.
I am of course terrified. Status Orange must mean some pretty drastic shit so I must be prepared.
Even worse, it’s a storm with a name! Debi. I don’t know who Debi is but she sounds nasty. I swear storms have got more fierce since they started naming them.
I have hastily scribbled out a Last Will & Testament [leaving everything to a dogs home], written a farewell note to Daughter [she rarely answers her phone] and am about to rush out into the garden to batten down any trampolines that may have appeared on my land.
They say [and I quote] I may expect “damage to exposed and vulnerable structures and power lines, with fallen trees and branches, dangerous travelling conditions and disruption to services“. That sounds serious. I can only be grateful that they don’t mention floods, high tides or earthquakes.
The alert stands until mid-morning tomorrow.
I am laying heavy odds that the Council won’t turn up in the morning to rip up my lane.
UPDATE…………
OMG!! They are starting to go Status Red and it’s creeping towards Wicklow.
Red means “rare, extremely dangerous/destructive“.
I’m fucked………
No fire? No brimstone? Pathetic.
Be fair. Isn’t a bit of wind bad enough?
Only if you can’t fart!
Ha Ha. If I can rustle up one of my better ones you could be looking for your bloody roof in the garden.
Please Grandad don’t fret; you can look the weather witch full in the face.
I’ll see your “better one” with one of my curry/onion/cabbage ones [know locally as a Royal Flush].