There's a south easterly gale howling outside. The view is slowly being obscured as salt encrusts the windows. But, for the moment, I can still see the vegetation in the garden, flinging itself around in some sort of toddler tantrum at the unfairness of an all-to-brief Summer and now... this!
Ferries are cancelled, access to causeways is under review, I shall not be putting out the recycling bins for collection but, from across the fields, Redwings, in ones and twos, are battling headlong into the gale, driven by the need to keep moving. Zugunruhe, it's called.
I am not going anywhere near a ladder today.