The calm before the storm

clouds before stormwierd clouds before storm

After the hottest day of the year so far I headed in the evening down to the river, hoping to catch a bit of breeze and enjoy the sunset. Down by the river I knew I didn’t have long. Black clouds filled the sky behind me and a distant flash of lightening showed what was coming my way.

A cloud bank bought the storm to me, a rolling worm of cloud tinged pink with the light from the dying sun. It came  towards me huge and powerful, full of tense air and pressure. It was otherworldly and just a little frightening, a force far greater than me turned above and, behind came the wind, suddenly and out of nowhere, bending the willow saplings double. Forks of lightening cracked across the sky and I began to feel a little vulnerable standing on the end of a pier by the river, the only upright thing in a flat landscape.

I like lightening but it also likes me…a little too much. I was once in a house hit by lightning, blown off the side of a metal fridge I was leaning against with an almighty crack, I felt the lightening earth through me, fizzing its way through my blood stream and down into my boots. Another time I went to an interview in a thunder storm. As I opened the door of the interview room and introduced myself a bolt of lightening hit the ground just outside the office, blowing all the electricity out and making every member of the interview panel scream. After an entrance like that how could they forget me, needless to say, I got the job.

Now standing on the estuary as the sky lit up with my electrical nemesis I felt it best not to tempt fate. After all, the lightning, this time, might get lucky.

My Writing Space – Part Two

a place to write

Summer’s here and the days are now too long and too lovely to write in the cellar. I have decamped to the estuary, to the pier at Lower Halstow by the River Medway while the oystercatchers protest at my intrusion and the gulls wheel overhead. I have now written 30,000 words of  my book Estuary Life and feel the smell of the saltmarsh and the sounds of the estuary creeping into the pages as I sit on the end of the pier with my thermos and thoughts.