I Am Charlie

I thought this blip was a perfect and poignant image to mark the abhorrent attack on freedom of speech in Paris on Wednesday.
I am Charlie.

For whatever reason this old typewriter has been a decoration fixed by a local hostelry to its outside wall, the latter scraped to reveal the shabby chic look which has graced my journal before.

I went to bed last night with the wind howling through the trees and rain being hurled like gravel against the windows. It was all rather exciting when I was safe, sound and warm, a bit like lying in a tent while the weather behaves badly outside.

I speak for myself when I say we were lucky with the storm in this neck of the woods. We have power and no discernible glitch to our lives, while elsewhere transport and electricity supplies are severely disrupted, and there is still more weather to come.

One tree in the immediate vicinity has come to grief as a huge limb has been torn off, seemingly at an angle which missed the adjacent path.The council men have been out already and the limb is now composted.

With the skies darkening alarmingly I intend to hibernate for the rest of the day, although there is a limit to how many more banana loaves I can bake.