Blow, blow thou winter wind!

Now that the howling winds have lessened in their intensity (well, stopped if I am to be strictly accurate) I can survey my demesne and take stock of the destruction wrecked. Three panels around the garden have been stricken. It is, of course, just my luck that the panels which need to be replaced are no longer made! I dread to think what resources of ingenuity will be called on from my limited stock to repair the seemingly destroyed fence. Two of the panels are now lying on the patio outside the front windows like some giant’s discarded jigsaw set and I have a vague but nagging feeling that a random scattering of nails knocked with enthusiasm in to various rotting pieces of sodden wood is not going to produce a convincing looking replacement section. Well, think what I like, it has to be done to be ready for the Selling Season for the house. I only hope that Cuprinol paint can cover a multitude of minor discrepancies in the surface of wooden panelling!

There is something to be said for viewing a gale from the centrally heated comfort of a secure home. Even though I have to say that the occasional ‘thunk!’ as yet another garden chair is levitated just enough to get itself thrown by the careless hand of the wind into the pond, where it remains, half submerged, like the aftermath of a normal pool party in Malaga, is a little disconcerting.

The wind also converted our street into an almost comical obstacle course because of the disorder brought to the road by the scattered bins which had been overturned. Driving was more of a slalom course, especially where the concentration of wheelie bins from the flats made the course even more perilous. Thank god for a good cup of tea and a decent book; the wind can do what it likes as long as there is literature to facilitate escape!

I am now well into ‘Winter in Madrid’ and I have distinctly mixed thoughts about the book. I am not convinced that the setting of the book adds that much to a rather contrived plot. I get the sense that the setting of immediate post Civil War Spain and the problems of keeping Spain out of the Second World War is more window dressing than an essential element in the effective presentation of the relationships of the major protagonists. Coincidence is playing far too large a part in the action of the novel and its obviousness is unsettling: it points up the mechanistic nature of the emotional ties which link the three school fellows.

I will wait until I have finished before I give a definitive evaluation of the novel – though I have to say the more I read this book the more I am looking forward to starting ‘Nicholas Nickleby’!

I am still looking for suggestions for the pieces of British orchestral music which qualify as ‘world famous’ – I’ve had one or two more suggestions but people are confusing ‘good’ British music with ‘world famous’ British music: not the same thing at all – though we might bemoan the fact that more British music is not known around the world, I’m looking for the reality of fame rather than the earnest expression of what ought to be famous.

Tomorrow: photos. I have neglected my camera, so I will set myself the task of producing a set of three or four decent shots to keep my level of involvement active.

We shall see.