Another mundane weather post.

My weather pixie who is always slightly behind the times is a lying Minx. There, I've said it. She should be ashamed of herself, suggesting as she does that a pair of decorative trousers and a light top would be appropriate in these parts.

The only thing for it this evening is a smart one or two piece (according to preference) accessorised with sou'wester and wellies.

For the weather that would have had us floating out into the North Sea on Monday has arrived tonight, or perhaps this afternoon - I was at work.

I became aware as evening grew to night that the road outside was a trifle, shall we say, damp. Then some time later, that the puddles in the gutter were still being dappled by continued rain fall.

Then around 8:00 the Fat Bastard phoned to announce, with something suspicously like glee, that the storm water drain at the top of the lane leading to our house is blocked and overflowing - down the lane and in the direction of our front door.

I became aware that stuff that sounded like thunder which I'd been hearing for the past hour was not, as I'd assumed, the sound of racks being rolled about in the upper warehouse but actually er, thunder.

I asked the fat bastard to unplug all electrical appliances not actually essential (ie, my 'puter) and put sand bags or equivalent in the appropriate place to fend off the flow and divert it away from our house if at all possible.

At 9:00 I left. I stepped out into something almost biblical in scale, and then it got heavier. I squelched across to the road, waded across that, forded the carpark and aquaplaned down the road. Over my right shoulder all the way I had the dubious priviledge of a light show spectacular over Kent. Unless I'm mistaken, and I am no meteorologist I admit, we had sheet and fork lightening. The entire sky above the wide plain that extends from our river south towards Kent was lit up almost constantly.

The good folk of the Pas de Calais must have been having a dreadful time of it. We almost always have the same weather as them. It is a bizarre truth that I have a better idea of what the weather will be like if I tune into RTL from Paris than anything broadcast from this side of la Manche.

In all honesty I've never been concerned about being out in a storm until tonight. The lightening never seemed to stop and also seemed to be all about and there were bits of the walk where I seemed to be awfully exposed. A few yards from the lane I met my next door neighbour going the other way. We could only laugh at the state we were both in. My trousers by this time were clining to my legs in a decidedly uncomfortable way, my eyes were stinging and my feet were shifting about in my shoes in a manner that leads me to fear they (the shoes, not the feet) are ruined.

Damn it.

I stripped off just inside the door, and I mean right off. I haven't seen proper weather like this since I left Melbourne and it made me feel good to experience mother nature's raw power. [Actually the rain, for all it has created problems still wasn't even truly sub tropical but it was heavy and it was sustained, but I've not seen such a prolonged electrical storm, and almost stationary too.]

Obviously the 'puter and I have survived. Since the light show went out the Infant has finally gone to bed, and I'm not far off that way myself. The Fat Bastard presumably enjoyed the hasty strip tease. I can't remember the last time I 'got 'em out for him'. Now he's off in the pub - now there's a surprise. Sorry, but you are definitely not supposed to make a link between my strip tease and him hastening to the pub, ok?

My hair is just about dry so I'm going to tidy up and get myself to bed.

Take care all.