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Balls Of Death

You may have noticed last week a little inclement weather that approached rather unexpectedly. Reports at the time suggested high winds, lightning and cats lifted into the air during a mini tornado. I was unaware that a change in the weather was forecast, my apps were strangely silent on this and suggested a little light zephyr followed by a light sprinkling of rain. Nothing to worry about, no scary words like amazeballs full on wrath of god coming your way or forget Oz you’re leaving the universe to worry about. Zip, zilch, nothing.

I sat in the studio merrily painting away, the light was fading a little as it does when a few dark clouds pass over. I was bopping away to a 140bpm mix painting a seven inch chocolate when it started to rain. I do love the pitter patter of light rain when you are snugged up in the warm studio. It got a little faster, hmm, sounds like we are going to have a bit of a downpour. I turned up the volume on my headphones to counteract the noise.

A few minutes later again lost in the music I became aware of a second noise, a low rumbling a bit like a train passing in the distance. I took my headphones off, definitely a rumble, I wonder if it’s a jet?

Out of nowhere I saw the trees part and bend in the distance as a gust of wind weaved its way towards the studio rather like the spirits in Evil Dead, this was no ordinary wind it was the mother flipper of winds, the pure sphincter rattler that you don’t want to be in the way of. It hit the studio with a boom, I dropped my headphones, my ears popped and the door was ripped open so all that lovely rain could fly in at a rakish angle. It was so strong it had bounced the door out of its catch, I fumbled with it against the gust flaying around like a mannequin until there was an almighty clap of thunder and a lightning flash that I’m sure was strong enough to made me look transparent like a cartoon X-Ray.

I locked the door from the inside as the storm started to really get going. Amidst flashes of lightning it started to hail, pretty big hail too, the thunder also increased its tempo and the studio started to shake a little. I of course was shaking a lot more for I had just remembered I was sitting in the studio equivalent of Nikola Tesla’s coil and was awaiting death by electrocution by my balls.

On top of the studio the designers decided that two metal balls would make an ideal decoration and finish the roof of quite nicely. I thought about this extra flourish and came to the conclusion they had never heard of a Van De Graaf generator. I once read about a weather reporter who stuck in an open field witnessing a storm whipped out his trusty Parker pen with its metal tip to record the fact and was never seen again. All that was found was his shoes, a smoking pair of glasses and two refills for his pen. I was not a fan of being in a studio flashbox that was about to make every hair stand on end whilst doing a Lionel Ritchie on the ceiling and finish by turning me into a new piece called ‘artiste a la flambé’d’.

Then again the combination of hail, wind, lightning, thunder and a scattering of fishes and loaves raging outside had a more sobering effect. Where was the best place to go to avoid being ball frazzled in such a small space? There was a small box that I could just about fit in but as it’s made of plastic there was a possibility I would become fused to it, I needed to keep away from the windows though, I’m sure I read somewhere that if you press your nose against glass during a storm there was a good chance a stray bolt would blow it off so that was out. I chose under the desk, it may not save me completely but it may just soften the blow enough so I only get a slight toasting and stagger out looking like David Dickenson.

So quietly weeping and rocking with the battering I knelt there, it seemed never ending with flashes and bolts flying about over the sound of a million frozen peas hitting the roof. Then it fell silent. Uh oh, I had read about this too (yes, I do read a lot) the winds are always worse on the back edge. Cue lots of screaming as I defended myself with a palette shield to protect me from falling sculptures and paint as the shelving unit started to wobble. I’m sure the studio lifted several feet off the ground, never mind flipping cats levitating this was it. Well, it was terrible, stumbling I fell on a paintbrush and was nearly crippled by a falling Mr Lubba Lubba as he rolled off the top shelf and crushed my slippers, it was messy. Although I did find a comb I had lost under the desk so some good came of it.

Then just as I expected to lift off completely and spend my days wandering a peculiar yellow road with three losers for friends and admiring my new pigtails and ruby slippers it stopped, the clouds parted and the sun came out. Were we in Oz? Was I about to step out and be surrounded by Munchies or whatever they are called? No, I looked like a seasond drunk, on the floor surrounded by debris clutching onto Mr Lubba and scraping paint off my shoes with my new comb.

So that was my day, nothing like a bit of frantic hysterics to pass the time and that is why today with hacksaw ready I’m about to remove my balls so to speak.


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