16.16 – still windy. and wet.
16.10 – the rain is so hard it has set off all the car alarms in the street making a sound like an orchestra of found sounds in an avant garde concerto by an American who spent too long in Paris in his early twenties
16.06 – the trees visible from my bedroom window bend awkwardly in the wind like Jeremy Vine completing a Latin dance move with his much shorter partner on the Strictly.
16.02 – the sky is as grey as the suits worn by Conservative MPs sent to tell a party leader that he or she has lost the confidence of the backbenchers.
15.59 – the lampposts are swaying like an alcoholic man walking along a road after an evening in a local hostelry.
15.58 – the rain is bouncing off the ground as if it was rain hitting the ground and bouncing.
15.57 – it’s wet and windy, and dark, and wet. And did I mention the wind?