When the wind blows

Drove up to Blyth today for the last of my sessions, dodging tree branches and blown-over wheelie bins disgorging rubbish all over the road. As I drew up to the coast the clouds gathered menacingly over the sea, probably in anticipation of the surge due to hit within hours, and the little beach huts, which I last blipped in benign autumn sunshine, looked terrorised by that fierce sky.

On the away home at 6pm, the police mounted a lonely vigil along the coast trying to stop people from going to the sea wall to witness the highest tide in 60 years. The roads were slick with salt water and as I crawled home the lights suddenly went out in village after village, making the roads as dark as midnight. But nothing as compared to those further south. The poor, poor things. I cannot even imagine what they're now going through.