It's a blustery day!

As Winnie the Pooh would have said, it's a blustery day! When my kids were little that was the WTP episode they loved the most, with Pooh flying off on a balloon and Eyeore chasing him, Tigger bounding after them with enthusiasm.

Not much damage here. A few twiggy branches down and the winter cover blown off the vegetable beds. And one piece of glass blown loose, but not broken, in the greenhouse. We probably ought to count ourselves lucky - it was blowing a gale all night as well. (Of course, now I've typed that, it'll be sods law that a tree will go over or some tiles come off the roof or something).

The Hubby had trouble getting to work this morning as the Dartford Bridge was closed and the traffic was tailing back for miles. In the end he came home and tried to sit it out, it didn't improve and so he went to work by train - let's hope they were running OK. Personally, I'd have rung in, said I was marooned (in Surrey mind you, not exactly a backwater) and worked at home, but then he is a martyr to the cause of local government. God knows why, it's a thankless profession.

The cats don't want to go out. They're standing at the cat flap, obviously desperate for a pee and almost crossing their legs, trying to time it between the gusts of wind. So far, their timing has been rubbish; I saw one of them almost get blown up the garden, tail aloft, in mid stream! Very amusing, but poor creature obviously got very stressed and came dashing back in without finishing off what she was doing. It's my pretty Tortoiseshell long hair, who hates bad weather of any kind. She's probably pee'd up the rubbish in the lobby out the back as revenge for my laughter.

There have been some tragedies; I saw an interview at lunch time on the news with a poor man whose van had been crushed by a falling tree and the guy sitting next to him was killed. The only reason he escaped was because at that very moment, he had bent down to retrieve his cigarette lighter from the floor of the van where he had dropped it and was in the footwell, not sitting upright. He hasn't even got any bruises, but he'll live with the mental scar of seeing his mate die for the rest of his life.

Supposedly it's all going to calm down tonight, but get cold and frosty. That's fine. I just can't help thinking that it's panto soon and we haven't really been hit yet by any bad weather to affect rehearsals or performances. I bet Mother Nature has something up her sleeve! I won't be really happy about that until we get to the last night; rain, winds, frost is all OK, just no snow please.

Another cat has just ventured out! I'm now off to watch her out of the window, and am prepared to chuckle as the wind blows her fur up the wrong way and she tries to find somewhere out of the wind to do whatever she needs to do. They really do resemble people on the beach at Brighton trying to shelter and pretend it's a lovely day to be beside the seaside, struggling to put up their wind break. Now there's a thought - a wind break for cats! Not sure it'd catch on though; those paws are useless for holding a mallet!