In the morning she took a dislike to the roof of the local Baptist Church, a building frequently used for AA meetings, a drop-in centre, Food Bank, as well as other things. The crew of volunteers were preparing lunch for the lunch club when the tile roof gave way. Thankfully no one was seriously injured, one person was treated by the neighbouring GP clinic.
Where my little road meets the Main Street there are a coupe of tall advertising billboards, it’s nothing unusual on a wet wild windy day for the paper to peel off and I watched as a corner piece flapped back and forth, slowly getting bigger. Later in the day I saw a police person wrapping police tape around the lamppost in front of these hoardings and thought it curious as the adverts were not peeling that badly. Today, however, some beefy burly types in eye-aching orange kit erected proper barriers and dismantled both structures.
But last night as I munched through my paella, listening to the gusts fart their way through my front door, there was a crash outside my curtained window. Utoh. Peeking through the curtains it was too dark to tell whether it was a roof role or the terracotta clock/barometer that used to hang in my parents courtyard. It was not until this morning I found out for sure, but in truth I already knew.