On Monday, the storm arrived. It wasn't as bad as the Great Storm of January 2009, but close. I made sure all the shutters and doors and windows were secure, and went to bed early. Soon afterwards the power went, leaving me huddled in my four-poster, curtains tucked in, with the wind-up radio and the wind-up lantern. I didn't sleep much. All night the storm would start to move away, and then come screaming back. I could hear things crashing outside. France Inter was running reports every 15 minutes, and in between there was soothing music and friendly chatter. It helped me because... I was scared. It was alright while I was awake, but when I dozed off the noise brought dreams of shipwreck and houses falling into the sea, and I woke in panic.
When I went to make tea (thank goodness for gas cookers - Mama always said you should have a gas hob in case of power cuts) it was surprising to see how light it was outside. The clouds were intermittent and the moonlight showed trees thrashing frantically. Poor trees, the ground is so wet this winter and their roots are not firmly fixed, and they have had to fight another storm before recovering from the first. Someone on the radio said that this was another once-in-a-century storm, and it's the third in 10 years, so how's that for climate disruption.
Around dawn the noise dropped to strong wind, and I slept.
The next day, all was well in the hamlet apart from a wall on M. Magister's property, which started falling down onto La Concierge's house. She called the mayor out and he sent a digger to demolish it. She's quite annoyed because they will have to pay for the removal of the wall, which has been unsafe for years - the old man hadn't had any repairs done for decades. We're wondering what will happen to the house: whether the sons will try to sell it, or one will move in, or they will just let it crumble. It would be a shame because although it's not in a good state, it is old charentais style and could be very pretty.
The trees won.
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