STOP!! Before you click away from this post in disgust, let me just say that this isn't going to be a whinging-about-the-weather post (I'm saving that one for when I run out of ideas - or for a rainy day, if you will. Har har.)
Admittedly, it is going to be weather-related. Sort-of kind-of. But you'll like it, honest. It's worth sticking around for, anyway.
Today, it has been raining non-stop in Bristol. Now, rain is ok; it's not as fun as sunshine, but I can cope with it. However, if rain starts to show any signs of gearing up to a storm (or if there are no signs, but my overactive imagination runs away with me), I start to get a little antsy. I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm a gibbering wreck, but I'm certainly not at ease.
Now, before you go calling me all shades of yellow-bellied wuss, I would like to point out that I was not always this way. Once upon a time, I was quite fond of a good storm. Right up until three months ago, when the roof of our flat was struck by lightning.
Since then, the threat of a storm (either real or imagined) makes me nervous. Not that it wasn't a whole heap of fun at the time, of course. I shall re-enact for you, in seven easy steps:
1) The sky turns purple.
2) A downpour of Biblical proportions comes on very suddenly, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
3) We count the seconds between the flashes and the crashes to try and work out how far away the storm is.
4) I say, "that sounds quite close now - I hope we don't get hit".
5) T'Other Half says, "don't be silly, of course we won't get hit".
6) There's an almighty BANG as we get hit.
7) I cry like a big girl.
In all seriousness, it wasn't really that bad, as nobody got hurt. However, the power surge did wipe out a heck of a lot of electrical equipment, including the computer, the TV, and - worst of all - the kettle. (Bear in mind, here, that my natural response to any crisis is to attempt to solve it with tea. Take away my ability to brew up and I am completely lost.) It was only last week that we got round to replacing the last broken thing (computer speakers). T'Other Half got quite emotional about being fully computerised again - very fond of technology, that one - and has taken to referring to the new computer as "Phoenix".
As I type this, I think the rain is easing off a bit, but I'm not willing to take any chances. So if you'll excuse me, I must go now - I need to busy myself with straining to hear the sound of any distant thunder.
T'Other Half has just told me in no uncertain terms that I can't blog about our lightning incident without mentioning this: after our old computer got fried, she built the new one herself from lots of fiddly little electrical components. (So if there are ever any spelling errors in my blog posts, or if it appears that I am just speaking nonsense, then she's probably to blame for putting one of the screws back in wrong. That's how it works - honest.) So, well done T'Other Half - you're very clever. Now please may I go and have my tea?