Monday, 8 November 2010

The eye of the storm

After a night of rattle and clatter, with rain drumming off the felt roof and miscellaneous unexplained bumps and slams coming from somewhere outside the cabin, we woke to find ourselves in the dead centre of the low which is passing slowly across the British Isles - the eye of the storm. Nothing stirred, the dinghy's bow rope hung limp from the jetty, and the sky was a cold and brittle blue: a perfect autumn morning. What a contrast.
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