Gathan Beaga


As Sarah has noted, it’s bloody cold here in Wellington at the moment. OK, so we’re used to a gentle maritime climate here: none of the continental 30° F below horror stories I used to hear from my sister-in-law when she was studying in Iowa are to be related around here. But minus 8° C below zero when you include the wind-chill is not nice for us tender souls.

It’s the wind that really gets you though. It just doesn’t stop, and during the night its unsteady roar is hardly calming. Periodically it gusts strong enough for the whole house to shake, and sometimes you can hear a anguished metallic groan as its fingers work away at what might be a loose bit of iron on the roof. You lie in bed wondering if the roof will still be in one piece in the morning, or whether bits will have flown off to make crinkle-cut neighbours cat. And just as you subside and relax a bit, a large handful of hail is flung against the window.

This is the second night of it. I think it’s time for it to stop. Nature: you’ve proved your point. Now go and annoy some harmless piece of open ocean.