shed more tears
Apart from a sharp sideways blast which pushed me six inches to the side whilst heading down Johnston Terrace this morning the wind didn't much impinge until I got back from a lunch-finding walk, by which time work had finally decided to join in with other local financial service providers and had told everyone to go home (rather than suggesting that out-of-towners and people 'concerned' about the wind might like to discuss leaving early with their manager and make up the time at a later date) and that time-credit would be applied. I had been quite looking forward to the task lined-up for the afternoon and hadn't experienced anything at lunchtime to make me think that staying until normal home-time would be particularly risky but both Nicky and Edgar had been sent home (luckily she before he) and being able to go back whilst some daylight remained would make the journey more interesting. I hadn't been keeping track of how well-populated these racks have been since their summer fullness but the single occupation of lunchtime seemed reasonably in keeping with the lower amount of cycles visible on the streets and on the work-racks, which were fairly empty except for the usual supply of cycle-to-work-scheme Boardmanses which have been in the same place since July.
Fortunately, as Nicky was at home whilst I was still on my way back, she was able to spot and intercept the shed roof before it had got any further than the front garden. I'd wondered earlier in the day if forgetting to have corrected the installation-morons' failure to properly secure them might have been a risk today. Rather than playing with the wingpiglet I popped out to screw things more securely into place whilst there was still some light. I'd finished the escapee sentry-box-style tall shed and was picking up the screws I'd just kicked over before looking at the bike shed (whose larger, lower and heavier roof didn't seem as much at risk) when the bi-fold door suddenly became a two-part door connected by a few splinters and some inadequate hinges. When I was looking at this a slate fell off the roof and landed a few inches away from where I'd been standing shortly before, which wouldn't have hit me but which might have made me jump slightly. Another broken drill bit (fixing the lock on the garden door at the weekend took out two) later the roof was secured, shortly after which the door was fixed, by which time it was about the time I'd usually be getting home.
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