Doesn't Strike Twice?

One week from tomorrow is the anniversary of when an alarming, dramatic fire destroyed the roof of the brewery stables, and gutted the first floor. Reconstruction has been going on since late summer, shrouded from both prying eyes and the elements. It has been remarkably calm and quiet - I keep saying it sounds like one artisan with a bag of hand tools. Yesterday and today a team of workers has been removing sheeting and scaffolding, re-exposing both the roof line and our much-missed horizon

Today has also been the day when the endless succession of dry, sunny days finally broke. Some places nearby have had dramatic lightning storms, hail and heavy rain. We have just had towering thunder-heads, drum-rolls echoing round the valley and brief bursts of gentle, warm rain that did little more than settle the dust - it didn't stop us beekeeping, or continuing to hack at out-of-control garden shrubs 

Perhaps the gentleness of the conditions lulled these men into a false sense of security. I would not have chosen today to stand on top of a matrix of highly conductive metal bars. Do they think that the worst has already happened here and nothing could befall them? At one point, one of them stood upright and raised his hands to the dark sky, as if challenging the gods. A poor understanding of probability, hubris and nemesis - but nerves of steel are likely a job requirement

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Did Kier's mum never tell him that a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet?

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If you enjoyed our ex-financial advisor's take on the global chaos unleashed by the stable genius, he has now posted part two