In the teeth of the storm

Lying in bed typing this at ten to midnight listening to Storm Ciarán with very high winds. Looked out at our palm trees seething in the wind. It is already hitting Guernsey with winds of 95mph, and the intensity is coming this way. We are due 85 mph winds in the early hours. There is a satellite dish on the roof which is crashing about and has come loose, but there is nothing to be done about it now. I wonder what damage it is doing, and if it will remain attached. Quite something to be so close to the coast with nothing much between us and the elements. Absolutely wild outside -- possibly the worst storm since the '87 hurricane, and it's going to get worse before it gets better.

In other news, I woke up at seven and was writing by seven thirty. Polished the poem of yesterday into something rather good I think, did the blurb for the new episode and received an email from Steve Foote of Blue Ormer in Guernsey, after I sent him a note yesterday about organising my Guernsey poems. Chatted to Mum who may be travelling to Olympia later on Friday, and we worked out how to get there via West Hampstead overground. 

A generally productive day, where there was plenty of time to hang out with Lorraine.  She had a slow start to the day and an aching arm after yesterday's jab. There was talk of going to the gym this evening with some friends, but given the extreme conditions nobody fancied it.  Sensibly stayed indoors, apart from wandering over to the supermarket. Richard showed me on Facebook, a supermarket in Guernsey denuded of toilet rolls before the storm. Why is it always toilet rolls?