Bert

The weather forecast was Biblical, but I'd been keeping an eye on the garden, and the water in the birdbath, since getting up at 7.30am to receive the supermarket delivery, and I didn't think it was yet bad enough to worry about. When I announced that I was going to Stratford R was dubious about the wisdom of the trip, but in the end he decided to come with me, and we had a perfectly civilised walk along the river. The worst thing that happened all morning was that BTP was so full they told us we'd have to wait fifteen minutes for a table. Luckily other purveyors of caffeine are available, and we wound up in Box Brownie, where the coffee was too strong for my taste, but the cake was exceptional.

By late afternoon the storm was building, and we were glad to have got out for fresh air and exercise (and cake, obvs) before it set in properly. 'Bert' though... Really? If you want people to take your 'B' storm seriously, at least call it something proper. 'Beowulf' was R's suggestion, and 'Boudicca' was mine. Baal, Beelzebub, Benedict, Baldric*..... all acceptable. Bert, though, sounds like the guy who'd stand around the kitchen drinking tea and telling you Dad jokes while supposedly fixing the dishwasher. 

* On second thoughts, maybe not Baldric.