Well, I said it was going to get warmer and wetter. Right now it is blowing a gale here at La Ville au Roi and as this house is on a small hill we are getting the full force of it. During the day it has been grey yet strangely warm. I sat out in a deckchair between jobs this lunchtime. In the afternoon my neighbour Annette came to visit and we sat and chatted, mostly about the difficulties of translation between languages. I am currently working on translating some Chinese poetry and she is translating one of my books into French. It is interesting that sometimes there is no exact equivalent. What is the French for "longing"? My translator says "désir ardent" which is not far off, but there is no single word and the sense of longing is slightly different from desire. Then it started to become dusk and she went home and then it started to rain and now it is tippling down. I feel quite snug in my house - though others tend to find it chilly - and listening to the elements raging around seems to stir rather primordial feelings. Humans must have been sheltering from such storms since time immemorial. I'm a lot more comfy here than if I was living in a cave.

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Woke this morning to find the storm still blowing. I kept Tara in last night so after sharing a little affection she was eager to be out, dashing hither and thither in the wind. I imagine she has now gone to her "big house" (the barn).

Continuing stormy skies: Now it is near the end of the afternoon and there is no let up in the weather. In fact, if anything, it is worse. Around midday it briefly looked as if it was improving but now we are back to high wind and squalls of rain. During the brief respite I did get out and do some outdoor work but have now retreated indoors again.

Well that was yesterday and today is no better :-). Cold, wet and windy. Tara would go out on the coldest winter nights, but she doesn't like this wind and is currently running around inside chasing a toy felt "mouse". Outside the wind roars and churns.

Now it is Thursday and I've discovered (from my daughter) that this dramatic weather we have been experiencing has been dignified with the title of "Hurricane Doris". That's exciting, isn't it? No wonder the cat would not go out. This morning it is calmer. I can hear the wood pigeon rather than the whining of wind and although the ground is sodden there is no rain actually falling at the moment.

Hurricane Doris makes it sound quite placid. Whoever names these things should come up with some better names.

Well, i think that calling it a hurricane may have been slightly over the top so Doris might be about right - though, of course, it may have been evn worse elsewhere. Where I am it was a prolonged storm with rain and high squalling wind. A tempest, perhaps.

Doris was Storm Doris when she swept through the UK - sounds like she'd raised her game by the time she reached you. She caught my mother and I crossing Chelsea Bridge - at one point I took firm hold of her (my mother, not Doris) with both arms, as the possibility of her being blown over the balustrade of the bridge became more than a joke. By this time the woman next to us had got down on the ground as the wind whipped us with grit. The pavements were covered in broken Plain Tree branches, and my mother's block, when we returned, was in lockdown for falling glass panels. After which  excitement (of course), a cup of tea. 

Naturally. I'm glad some traditions are maintained.

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