…and quite nearly literally. Hello lovelies, I’m back from my holidays and flew back into Blighty on the tail end of hurricane Katia. Scary. Anyone who knows me, knows that I hate wind and not just the smelly kind.
The windows are rattling away in our house tonight and I’m so glad to be inside. Whenever the weather forecasts strong winds that is when I start to batten down the hatches. Not because I worry about being whipped across the face, but I have an absolute pertifying fear of being blown away.
Now, now, don’t laugh, I’m being deadly seriously.
I was reminded by a relative just the other week about how when I was a young child, holding onto a helium balloon, my Dad had to grab me as a mighty gust of wind and said balloon tried to carry me away. I have a particularly fond memory of being blown across in the primary school playground one particularly blustery day as a group of us used our coats as kites. Being smaller and lighter than my friends, I do remember feeling like SuperGirl when being swept off my feet across the concrete ground. Quite exhilarating as an 8 year-old, not so much so as a grown adult who has on many a windy occasion been nearly blown into oncoming traffic because of such gusts, being thankfully saved by a trusty hand rail or my beau’s arm.
Needless to say, I’m sitting tight for the next few days or only venturing out with 10kg weights around my ankles! I’ll see you on the other side.
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