During Storm Dennis

They say the wind howls in winter, not during storm Dennis.  Howling is a higher pitch, like a tenor voice.  The gales of Dennis are more baritone or bass.  This wind roars - not like a lion but like a giant machine, constantly, deafeningly, relentlessly for days on end.  It has been roaring for nearly a week now. 

As one storm blows itself out another comes tearing in with barely a moment to notice the change of character.  If the weatherman didn't show you those charts you'd never know the difference.  You would just think it was one continuous 'low pressure' system, all tight isobars and flood warnings. 

Yes, there has been a day or two when the weather was just blustery as they say in those Winnie the Pooh stories. Your fence, if it stayed up during the previous storm called Ciara, would be safe but your umbrella wouldn't stand a chance.  You see them in the High Street, discarded umbrellas turned inside out.  Their stays exposed like the ribs of decaying animals rotting in the desert sands.  (Sorry to go so David Attenborough on you)  You know their owners abandoned them with a prolonged curse as the driving rain poured down coat collars and dripped off noses.  It was never going to end any other way. 

Night time is the worst.  You can't go to sleep for wondering if that crash was your roof being dismantled a bit at a time.  Perhaps it was your greenhouse or that old tree you should have sawed down years ago.  Well, it's probably landed on your neighbour's car now.  

When you finally drift off into a fitful sleep the sounds of the storm weave themselves into your fevered dreams.  Then you wake... bolt upright!  Suddenly without warning, the roaring has stopped.  The silence is even more unnerving.  You can hear your heart beating, the blood rushing through your ears.  I even fancy I can hear electricity coursing through the wiring in the walls. 

Without any hope of going back to sleep, you get up and make a cup of tea.  You peer through the silent darkness of the small hours to assess any damage.  Carefully, quietly,  not to wake the rest of the house, you open the window.... as you do, a great gust of wind rips a torrent of rain into the room.  Dennis is back, he was only catching his breath.  Bastard!