Disaster Recovery

After the joys of Friday night I was sound asleep as the wind was building to a crescendo.

I was woken, slightly befuddled, at the astonishingly early hour of 9:30 by my Learned Next Door Neighbour; a suave chap who drives open top sports cars. Lynnie answered the door to him in her dressing gown.

I never get to meet my neighbours in their dressing gowns so my LNDN is a lucky chap. The rogue.

However, his was a mission of great import and kindness. Five of my very tall fence panels were now lying flat at the foot of my garden, where I was unlikely to spot them as they were behind the garage and the prized shed. He has a fine mind and had obviously noted the likelihood of my not venturing that far down the greensward at this time in the annual cycle.

I thanked him profusley and decided quite firmly that the inspection could wait until after a soak in the bathtub and perhaps until after a spot of lunch at Don's in town. Suitably bathed, with steamy flannel held over the forehead for long periods, I made it downstairs after a lightly boiled egg and toast in bed with a fruit juice. The Recovery had started.

That was yesterday's Disaster (which was actually far worse than the LNDN had reported as a further five panels on the other side of the garden were also well awry).

Today brought far more serious news of disaster. The Brother With No Hair is no longer residing in his newly refurbished dream cottage in Devon. No. A Disaster has befallen him too. The newly re-thatched cottage next door caught fire, which jumped into TBWNH's roof, causing widespread fire damage in the roof. The fifteen fire appliances that responded to the event poured enough water onto the house to do quite an appreciable bit of damage themselves.

Still - however heartbreaking all this damage can be, it is all just stuff. TBWNH and family in now safely tucked up with our Smallest of All Sister a few miles away.

My fence panels are laying calmly in repose on the lawn.