Blow, Winds!

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!

(King Lear, Act III, Sc II)

via

 

 Back to work, as nature hurls chaos at us. Trees falling, roads closed, power lines down, heroic rescues at sea. Malin Head weather station recorded hurricane force winds, trucks were blown over, and I'm knackered.

I was, of course, out nailing things down, roping and sheeting, dodging debris. Tuesday was the first day back, and my sleep patterns have not readjusted. In a free-will situation, I skew toward nocturnal habits. So, monday night saw me valiantly trying to sleep, in preparation for tuesday.
Tuesday itself was intense, lots of stuff to fix post-holiday, but also a howling gale full of little
sharp icy bits, which threaten to scour flesh from bone.
On getting home, I managed to fall asleep almost instantly to be woken with a call from our security guy, that a tree had dropped a big limb across the gates at one site... could I just...



So, back to work, to find my boss had lent the chainsaw to his pal, who is currently away somewhere. Oh lovely. Manual sawing then. Bow-saw, rope, land-rover... drag it clear, go back for more.

After an  hour or so I'm really quite warmed up. When my boss finally picks up his phone...."Were you trying to call me?" HAH!
He's going to get the next call out. My phone will be off.