Tuesday, October 29, 2013

And the Wind, Crying and Moaning, Rocks the House

Well we came through the storm quite well. No damage to the house - or the fence. And we only lost power for a very short while. My nephew in Hertfordshire lost his fence - completely - the whole thing blew down. And he's still without power but since a) the weather is quite mild for the time of year and b) he likes to eat out a lot, he's not terribly worried by that.

The deaths, while fewer this time than in the Great Storm of '87 (which was much worse) are all still terrible. And our thoughts and prayers are with the bereaved. And with those whose homes were damaged.

Of course, when compared with Katrina, or Sandy, or Phailin, or any of the myriad cyclones, typhoons, and hurricanes that hit in the zones which suffer them, our little storm was nothing. It's only because we in the UK don't suffer these things on a regular basis that they're so shocking when they do happen.

Floods?? Yeah, frequently. But hurricanes?? Nope. 1987. 1990. And now 2013.

Every death though, whether four (England), thirteen (across northern Europe), twenty-two (1987), or 300 (1953), is still a tragedy.

    No man is an island,
    Entire of itself.
    Each is a piece of the continent,
    A part of the main.
    If a clod be washed away by the sea,
    Europe is the less.
    As well as if a promontory were.
    As well as if a manor of thine own
    Or of thine friend's were.
    Each man's death diminishes me,
    For I am involved in mankind.
    Therefore, send not to know
    For whom the bell tolls,
    It tolls for thee.

Ze

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