Gales Of Woe

First day off.

She was still in her pyjamas when the dramas started.

Hearing a crash, she looked out of the back door. Nothing to see. The garden is hidden from sight, above a wall, on a slope.

She hurried upstairs and looked out of the window.

I didn't understand any of the words she said but I knew the day was going to go downhill from here on in.

This devastation was BEFORE the winds struck with full force. While it was still just "a bit blowy".
The wind really took hold just as she was struggling to drag the eight foot side of the shed up the garden.
It lifted horizontally as she grimly held on. Levitating like some weird wooden magic carpet and threatening to fly like a frisbee, straight through the dormer windows.
Somehow she managed to drag all the bits away from danger and weigh them down with slabs and stones. A neighbour helped to throw a tarpaulin over the lot.
She came indoors to get ready for stable duties, switched on the kettle.

The electricity flickered a few times and died.

It wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

She returned from the stables, lit the fire and filled a pot with water. Placing the pot on the woodburning stove, she smiled with satisfaction as she watched it boil for tea.
Another pot made some soup and the barbecue tongs were pressed into service to make toast in front of the flames.
This procedure was repeated throughout the day and she read by candlelight as the day grew dark.

The wind screamed down the valley and torrents of rain lashed the hills but we were warm, comfortable and well fed.

The electricity stayed off all day and night.

We went to bed early.