Am I over it?
It's still incredibly windy. But, much to my surprise, I've felt no ill effects of having a home that rocks back and forth with every gust. So far, at least.
In the twilight of Wednesday afternoon, with the squalls gaining in force and frequency, I decided it would be prudent to make sure that everything in the yard was either tied down or shut away in a shed (I accidentally shut the cat in an outhouse for a short period of time, but at least I didn't tie him down). I did find myself at one point, standing on a chair in the near darkness, wielding a large rake as I tried to catch the end of a massive tarp that had flipped itself over the roof of one of the sheds and was making deafening cracking noises as the wind mounted.
Tarp secured, I returned to the truck to find that the central pole of the awning had worked its way forward and had slipped off the roof of the horsebox, taking a piece of guttering and the outside light with it. I also discovered that I was a couple of inches too short to be able to reach to put it back in place.
Luckily, a tall friend was due to come over for a cuppa and when he arrived, I put him to work. With the awning speedily fixed, tea drunk, biscuits munched and the gutter put to one side (there's only so much you can do in the dark) I settled down for the evening ahead. The outside light is a goner.
Then the rain came. Apart from the physical movement of my home, the most notable difference between here and living inside bricks and mortar, is the noise. If you've ever spent time in a caravan, you'll know what I mean.
The appearance of a small-but-rapidly-growing puddle under the door confirmed that the guttering couldn't wait. It's amazing what you can achieve with a head torch and bit of stubbornness in a very short space of time...
But the thing that surprised me most wasn't my twilight-shed-climbing abilities but the fact that throughout the whole of the storm, I didn't feel ill. Not even a slightly fuzzy head. The truck swayed, glasses clinked together, light fitting swayed and the mirror bounced against the wall. I felt fine.
The forecast for the next four days is mostly cold, wet and very windy. I suppose I will very quickly discover whether or not I have conquered my 'seasickness'.
In the meantime, the wood is chopped, tea is soon to be on the stove and the music is turned up loud (really loud otherwise I can't hear it). This will do:
UPDATE 00.01 21/12/13
In the twilight of Wednesday afternoon, with the squalls gaining in force and frequency, I decided it would be prudent to make sure that everything in the yard was either tied down or shut away in a shed (I accidentally shut the cat in an outhouse for a short period of time, but at least I didn't tie him down). I did find myself at one point, standing on a chair in the near darkness, wielding a large rake as I tried to catch the end of a massive tarp that had flipped itself over the roof of one of the sheds and was making deafening cracking noises as the wind mounted.
Tarp secured, I returned to the truck to find that the central pole of the awning had worked its way forward and had slipped off the roof of the horsebox, taking a piece of guttering and the outside light with it. I also discovered that I was a couple of inches too short to be able to reach to put it back in place.
Luckily, a tall friend was due to come over for a cuppa and when he arrived, I put him to work. With the awning speedily fixed, tea drunk, biscuits munched and the gutter put to one side (there's only so much you can do in the dark) I settled down for the evening ahead. The outside light is a goner.
Then the rain came. Apart from the physical movement of my home, the most notable difference between here and living inside bricks and mortar, is the noise. If you've ever spent time in a caravan, you'll know what I mean.
The appearance of a small-but-rapidly-growing puddle under the door confirmed that the guttering couldn't wait. It's amazing what you can achieve with a head torch and bit of stubbornness in a very short space of time...
But the thing that surprised me most wasn't my twilight-shed-climbing abilities but the fact that throughout the whole of the storm, I didn't feel ill. Not even a slightly fuzzy head. The truck swayed, glasses clinked together, light fitting swayed and the mirror bounced against the wall. I felt fine.
The forecast for the next four days is mostly cold, wet and very windy. I suppose I will very quickly discover whether or not I have conquered my 'seasickness'.
In the meantime, the wood is chopped, tea is soon to be on the stove and the music is turned up loud (really loud otherwise I can't hear it). This will do:
Happy
UPDATE 00.01 21/12/13
I take it all back. I obviously wasn't trying hard enough ... bleurghhhh ...