Gertrude has been a beast today I must say. She has howled and raged all day in the Scot's pines and the noise has driven me mad. The only way I can get any peace is to turn off my hearing aid. She hadn't stopped the farmer from walking round on the last shoot of the season with his syndicate group. It was bitterly cold but boosted by a whisky-laced flask of coffee, a Scotch egg (sorry John), sandwiches, a piece of slab cake, a packet of crisps and a large bunch of grapes he set off at ten o'clock in fine fettle.
Friend W and I took ourselves into our favourite cafe for a bowl of vegetable soup and a ham and mustard sandwich. Delicious.
No soon is Gertrude disappearing off the horizon, accompanied by flurries of snow over high ground (us?) than Henry puts in an appearance on Monday/Tuesday, accompanied by even stronger winds 'which may cause structural damage'.
The one advantage of naming storms that I can see is that it does make it easier to recall how many storms we have had this Winter.
Henry will be the eighth and the farmer cannot ever remember so many storms in one Winter before.
We are set to meet four people in Hawes tomorrow for lunch (a change of venue as the restaurant we were to meet in was flooded out and rang on Friday to say that their renovations were not finished). We are keeping our fingers crossed that snow doesn't prevent us all meeting as this is the third time we have arranged to meet and the other two have gone wrong.
So everyone will wrap up well. But after all, it is Winter isn't it?