I don’t remember…

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I don’t remember it happening. It must have been long ago, before the sky fell, before the Mirohs arrived. When I was young?

The world had been burning, literally, fires everywhere. Ice melting. One day it was cold, the next boiling hot.

I don’t remember the day we reached 3..

Three degrees of global heating. They had said two was bad, but we got it even hotter. The seas won’t rise. My Mom told me that, it will never happen said Dad.

It’s all a blur. Running from the sea, trying to find homes in the hills. Millions crushed in the cities that were not on rivers…

They could have called it the great flood, but the papers said the sky was falling. What it meant was the rains and storms, so heavy they flattened towns in seconds, crops died. We started growing rice in paddy fields, it was the only way to get some sustenance in all the wet, dank weather.

Two years of hell passed. I was growing up and worked in the fields. All of the children worked. No schools, just back breaking work, bending and shoveling.

We hated it, but we were not  polluting anymore. Life seemed to pause and take a breath…

Then the Mirohs came, an alien race. We saw their ship, huge, like a great storm cloud. They looked down at us. Like bugs we were to them. Then the killing started. The message, you didn’t care for your precious planet. So we will take it. Humanity is a pestilence. They put something in the water. Now no one can have children. In a hundred years or so…. We will be gone.

Will anyone remember us?

Red sky

Red sky this morning, harbinger of bad weather. An ex hurricane no less is on its way. Now the curl of wind and rain is arriving, heavy rain washing down the sides of the caravan, beating the roof. Trees bending in the prevailing wind so their branches form the characteristic bent double pose, like a person turning their back to the wind and leaning forward, head down to try and avoid being blown over.

Time to hunker down and keep warm while the storm whirls out to sea, its winds whipping up the waves. To shuffle as far as you can under the duvet until it is snatched away from you by human hands not the wind! Listening into the night for possible broken branches. (Only its more likely to be a damp squib as I’ve just heard on the weather forecast that it’s mainly going to track up the west coast of Ireland and the Irish Sea?)

My romantic idea of a dark and stormy night? So much for red skies in the morning!

George

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George was a good cat. If he climbed on windowsills he would carefully place his paws so he didn’t knock over the vases. If he climbed to the top of the bookcase, somehow he would not knock the books down. Even if paint was spilled on the floor he could avoid walking through it. Oh George was a clever cat. He could be seen in the window of the house. Not looking out, but looking into the room. A twinkle in his eye.

George had one bad habit. He chased the goldfish in the bowl. It would hide behind the plastic castle in the corner. Waiting for George, who could stare for hours, to get bored and go away.

One day it was cold and grey, the weather was stormy, and George decided to look out of the window and watch the trees waving in the wind. Suddenly a bolt of lightening struck one of the tallest trees. There was an almighty cracking noise, and a huge branch came down hitting the window and smashing it. George jumped out of the way just in time, his paws softly landing on the carpet. But then he saw the goldfish, it’s bowl had been knocked over. He sniffed it as it lay flapping on its side. But, instead of eating the fish he carefully gripped the tip of its tail in his mouth and ‘plop’, dropped it back into the half full bowl. Then he placed himself next to the bowl and watched the fish swim.

Waiting for weather.

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Sky keeps going dark grey, a sudden squall of rain then bright again, sunshine and showers.  I’m watching the trees bend in the wind, the weather station anammometer twirling in the wind. In some places round here the power is out.

As I watch the blitzortung app on my phone I can see thunderstorms trundling across the country. Their trails changing from white, yellow, orange and red. White most recent, red in the past. You can track their movement. I’m not sure if they will get here or bypass us.

The weather is unseasonably autumnal. Festivals due to be happening thus weekend have been cancelled because of the strong winds. I’m sitting here in the dark. The radio is on. My hubby is making coffee and I’m waiting for the first flash.

Heat

Some of the plants got bashed by last night’s storm. The temperatures are very hot although there was a bit of cloud cover for about 5 minutes and with a gentle breeze it felt quite pleasant in the garden. Now though the sun’s come out again and I feel like I’m being bitten by gnats or midges. I also realise I should have used some sunscreen. I think it’s around 32°C?

Last night I made gooseberry fool for dessert using the gooseberries we had picked from the garden a few days ago. You have to top and tail then first, which took a while as we had loads of small fruits. I boiled the goosegogs with some sweetener, let it cool then added the mashed fruit to mixed yoghurt and whipped double cream. Delusions cool and green.

Oh good, sun’s gone back in for a bit.

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Thunder and lightning

After such a hit humid day Britain is now being hit by big thunderstorms. I watch an app called blitzortnung and you can see lightening strikes from around the world. He thunderstorms that we’re here an hour ago have moved up towards the North East of the country, but it looks like another line of storms is on its way up from the Midlands. I tried to take some photos but the first few didn’t work very well because my phone camera was on automatic. By the time it had decided on an exposure the flash was gone (orange coloured sky photos caused by street lamps) then I realised if I set lit on the basic manual mode I would get quicker ictures despite the view on the camera being darker. The purplish photos were from doing that. I managed to actually catch a bolt of lightning! The bright one, like daylight was just an extremely bright flash.

Now its raining again. No doubt we will have more but its 3.39am….

Goodnight

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Out of the rain.

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The storm blew in from the North like a runaway train. The wind threw water against the houses. Cars were lifted up by the flood and were caught on the top of the neat hedges that lined the sides of the street. Out of the maelstrom came a figure of a small man dressed in a black raincoat. Water streamed from him, it flowed out of his sleeves and trouser legs. Tears streamed in rivers from his eyes, nose, mouth and even from his ears.

He was called Beck and he was from the North. He was a water god and he had decided to show mankind his might because of the way the World was being treated. He was angry and the storm was growing into a tornado. He had seen the way forests were being cut back, cars clogging roads, ships travelling half way across the world to deliver the cheapest sweatshop goods.

Beck lifted his arms, words bubbled up from his mouth.

Learn or die! He screamed in a high voice. Learn, or, die !