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Yellow Dick Road

None of this was there minutes earlier.

It’s the second time this year that I thought I might be suddenly whipped up and deposited head first in a skip several miles away stripped of my clothes and mumbling incoherently when from out of the blue the weather took a turn for the worst.

It was around 3:30pm’ish yesterday and I was in the studio. Normally I have plenty of light but I noticed it was getting rather dark outside so popped on an extra light and carried on painting. It started to rain, it had been doing it on and off all day but this rain was different, it seemed to be hitting the roof really, really hard. It wasn’t hail just very big drops of rain pattering away and the garden was awash. As I looked out of the window I saw something peculiar, the rain started to bend. I know that sounds weird but you could see the angle of the rain changing, instead of thundering down it started to curve into a forty five degree angle then bend a little bit more so the rain was whipping around nearly horizontal.

By this time the studio had started to get a few new rattles and noises but in the distance though I could hear a train. A train? Why would I hear a bloody train? The train turned out to be a mega gust of wind that parted the trees as it approached bring a lot of debris along with it. Thousands of leaves suddenly had the urge to leap off the branches, bits of paper curled and flapped amongst them as it rolled forward. Cats flew by mewling, cows were over turned, kids screamed, women fainted, I broke wind, you get the picture.

I had seen too many films, this was one of those ‘nado things, you know the ones that carry sharks and witches whilst forcing you to wear a pair of ruby slippers (hmm, nice!) so immediately entered panic mode. Surely the four windows in front of me could blow in? What if the roof came off? How would I fight a shark using just a Mahl stick and a tube of Titanium White? Does my t-shirt go with red footwear? Whilst I stood there panicking it hit the studio; the doors rattled in the frame perfectly in time to my rattling sphincter whilst I shouted ‘There is no place like home!’ and frantically kicked my heels together ruining my slippers.

Then it was over. Apparently the tornado came down fully three miles away tearing through thirty properties causing pounds worth of damage and thousands in improvements (only kidding!, or am I?) A lucky escape then or this blog could have been entirely different and I would instead be complaining about a bloody lion and a scruffy man following me about whilst a third gentleman wanted me to squirt oil all over him the pervert. Still, I would have had a nice pair of slippers to show off.

The Met Office issued a statement ‘I’m sick of working here’ said one spokesman ‘All they talk about is the bloody weather’ he added before gathering himself and confirming that indeed a tornado had occurred and it was a one off event that was very rare. Gee, thanks for that, is it as rare as the last two we had earlier this year only a few miles from my house? I looked up rare to see if it’s definition had changed to ‘quite likely’ but then I found the word ‘pedant’ and become obsessed with looking up similar words so got no further.

May I suggest that three tornados in one year over three square miles is indeed ‘not rare’ and should be considered ‘quite likely’ especially in the garden of Peter Smith who now walks around on a long chain should he be inadvertantly whipped up into the air during a common but rare weather event whilst he erects his brand new ‘Tornado Alley’ sign in his front garden. It was only February if I remember correctly that we were out on the street battling to mend a neighbours fence in winds that threatened to turn me inside out if I bared my backside whilst six foot planks were whipped up to flap around at head height and the conservatory roof was nearly peeled off.

Oh, and whilst we are at it Mr Met Office Man can we please have a bit more warning than a ‘a few inches overnight’ when forecasting snow for my house. The last time you did that I had drifts up to the windows and an average depth of snow to clear of 30” (I have pictures! Of the snow I hasten to add)

I seem to be at some epicentre for freakish weather this year; hailstones that destroyed our plants, lightning that struck so close my hair stood on end whilst I sat in a studio that has two metal balls on the top like some Van De Graff generator waiting for a damn good strike and rain that was so severe it managed to flood Bunnyopolis with the ferocity of a localised Tsunami, all I need now is a small meteor to crash through the roof. If you think I have missed out earthquake that’s only because that happend five years ago when it rattled the house enough to open all the internal doors and moved me enough to hit my head on the bedside table.

Ahh, that’s better, I have just looked out of the studio window and it’s sunny, a kind of watery sun that looks…

Oh, my, it’s suddenly got very, very dark…

There is no place like home, there is no place like home!


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