Yup, I’m not looking forward to today’s little writing-fest. Not because I’ve got a difficult scene to do, or write-ist’s block, or a really nasty boil on the end of my typing finger, but once more we have wind (atmospheric, not intestinal). Now I know it’s not a hurricane, or a tornado, this is just your common or garden wind. The only trouble is it’s blowing in just the right direction to make the veranda roof howl.
My study is at the back of the house and looks out, through the veranda and onto the garden and the fields beyond. Nice view. But the people who had the house before us installed a patented whistling veranda roof – I think you have to order them specially from B&Q – so every time the wind blows from points south, the thing honks, whooooms, pwooooos and phwumps.
Right now it sounds like a horde of school kids with ADD having a ‘who can make the most noise on a recorder’ competition. Only they’re all going at once. Little sods.
And I can’t find the headphones I used to wear at work, so I’ve got Paul Weller cranked up to an ear-wax-melting volume to try and drown it out. And my fingers are cold. And things cost more than they used to. Whinge, moan, whinge, etc.
Like I say, it’s going to be a tough day’s writing.