I mentioned on Wednesday that I had to go out.

I also mentioned an inclement spot of weather.

Apparently this was “Storm Gerrit” or somesuch but really it was just windy and wet. I would wager that we had wetter and windier days long before they started this strange naming lark. Anyhow this was a very strong wind, enough to blow down a tree in County Waterford. Wow! It’s no wonder they had half the country under Orange Alerts.

It had also been raining quite a bit and as I left the house it crossed my mind that all this rain would be a great test of our new flood-free lane that had taken several weeks to rebuild and a lot of inconvenience. So with a sense of excitement I emerged from the side passageway into the front garden and there it was – my old friend, the flood. There was no change whatsoever. I waded through and checked outside. Sure enough there was a fair bit of water running down the hill, neatly bypassing the new drainage grate that was built at the apex of a hump and flowing into my gate. I’ll give the Council ten out of ten for effort but can only give them a zero for result. Why was I not surprised?

On another weather note, I was half listening to the forecast after the news last night. The girl there was warning us of endless showers and wind in the days to come and announced that it would be forty eight degrees. Fuck me! Forty eight degrees? That’s incredible. And in mid winter too!

But then I realised. What she meant to say was four to eight degrees. That made a bit more sense

These forecasters really should concentrate on their diction.

It’s no wonder we keep getting such fucked up weather?