Unseasonal delight

In this wet, windy and stormy season, nobody thought to tell the clematis growing by our front door that it isn’t supposed to be flowering in November. 

Compared to the folk further to the south of England, we escaped the ravages of Storm Ciarán relatively lightly last night. Our cellar stayed dry, and the pump is still behaving itself at the moment, which will hopefully last until Thames Water come to check the sewer in the road. 

The only downside was that we hadn’t yet brought in our parasol for the winter. It was standing in the centre of our metal dining table, fixed into a concrete base. The last time we used it I had wound the lever on the pole to lower the parasol, but hadn’t tied the ribbon around the fabric because that requires standing on the table and I hadn’t felt safe doing that. (Smithers usually does it for me because he’s tall enough to reach it without climbing up on the table.)

One gust of wind last night must have billowed out the parasol, lifted it out of its stand and up over the table and deposited it on our terrace. By the grace of God it didn’t inflict any damage, either on all the nearby windows or the brickwork. I have now brought it into the garage, after shaking it thoroughly to release all the trapped water, and I’ll dry it out as best I can another day.