~o~
The gusts are expected to exceed 20m/s until after lunch time. One death is reported. Where a woman swerved her car around a fallen tree and hit an oncoming vehicle head on. The elderly male driver died. The highest recorded gust nearby was 30m/s. Elsewhere 44m/s was recorded. Almost exactly 100mph or 160kph.
06.15. It is 62F/16C in the room. I haven't lit the stove yet but should. It feels cold. I just put on an extra jumper. Finished my routine of reading the global news online and checking the astronomy forums. Despite no longer doing any active imaging myself I like to keep in touch with the hobby. So I can pretend that life still has some meaning outside of my small, grey bubble.
06.30 Stove lit. Time for some muesli. I try not to eat breakfast before 6am. To avoid stretching the distance between meals. Or shuffling them all to an earlier time.
6.45 I have fitted my hearing aids to check if I can hear the storm any better. Not so far. I should resent the metallic ticking and clanking of the stove but at least it adds some noise to the empty silence. The sharpened rattling of the keyboard now sounds foolishly harsh in this vacuum.
There is some serious tidying to do upstairs. Much as I hate going up there now. Rekindling unwanted, uninvited memories of our long years together. Slipping by almost unnoticed and usually unremarked.
Nostalgia is now more of a burden. Than kindling any remaining warmth from the fading memories each item now brings. The aching knowledge that no words of mine can fill the empty void stretching ahead. It is much too late to repair entrenched resentments. To undo habitual behaviours. To catch up on the groaning backlog of uncorrected trivialities.
The myriad failures to encourage. To warmly praise. To give repeated and grateful thanks. For a lifetime of service to our marriage. The failure to hug or to cuddle when required. To fill the long silences between us. To gently question. Even when no response was ever forthcoming. To insist when it was in her best interest. To endlessly, honestly and gently reassure. Where no reassurance was ever acceptable.
08.00 The sky is brightening and appears clear. The silhouettes of the garden trees are rocking in the silent wind. No observable damage so far. I am impatient to go for a walk. To escape. To run away from my thoughts and my unquenchable misery of guilt. That I failed to provide a palatial exhibition space for all her treasures.
09.30 Morning coffee over. I was treated to the rising of a giant sun, on the Winter Solstice, over a local hill. The wind was still strong and roaring in the tops of the roadside trees. As I strolled along. Occasionally bent over against the headwind. I amused myself by kicking the many fallen twigs onto the verge. A tall, solitary, dead tree had broken in the trunk and fallen. Not more than 4" in diameter. Somebody must have tidied it onto the verge. It was lying much too neatly to have occurred naturally.
The flooding on the back field is growing but far from a problem for me. Coastal flooding is occurring yet again. Not long after the last storm. 2023 has been the wettest ever recorded in Denmark. Despite a severe drought in the spring. Denmark is recorded as the country best adapted to fighting climate change. In 4th place. The top spots had no worthy candidates.
13.00 Lunch. The greenhouse has risen to 60F/15C in the sunshine.
17.00 I have been chatting on the phone today. Not used to it. My voice has gone all squeaky! The neighbours are having an Xmas get together at 7pm. So I shall have to have a gargle before I go. Water didn't work. So I am trying milk.
17.30 I have trimmed my beard. To avoid being accused of imitating Father Xmas. Humbug! 😏
18.30 Showered and changed. Counting down the minutes. 70F/21C in the room. I'll bung a large log on before I leave.
22.30 Back from the party. It was great. Lots of laughter. I discovered Glögg is the universal translator. The stove had gone out but I have revived it for a quick boost before bedtime.
~o~
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