The soothing sounds of Lionel Ritchie and the Commodores melt over you like maple syrup over a hot stack of pancakes. Fresh coffee is poured at a respectably late hour, the woodstove wraps the house in a comforting glow and the sofa beckons for a day of lounging and relaxing. This is how Sunday should begin. It should start slowly and get slower, culminating in an avalanche of pointless distraction and malaise that ends back under a big fat duvet.
That’s the theory. The reality was somewhat different…
05.30 – very loud crash from outside; indicating the removal and destruction of ‘some’ roof tiles by an alarming escalation of wind velocity.
05.32 – damage is carefully assessed in the dark and appropriate action is taken: go back to bed.
07.30 – damage is reassessed due to rain water appearing in the middle of kitchen floor. One third of all ridge tile and top row of roof tiles became airborne in the storm and landed, like tiny missiles across back half of roof resulting in an alarming amount of holes. Luckily it has stopped raining at this point…
07.35 – Penfold says brightly “I’ll go and replace them then…”
07.36 – Penfold says darkly “I only have 2 spares and it’s Sunday. Bollocks…”
07.37 – Penfold wanders around in small circles, muttering and swearing for quite some time.
08.00 – Having had a nice cup of tea Penfold starts to stick cracked tiles together with bathroom sealant and bodge bigger holes with random squares of plastic.
12.37 – Penfold completes cunning roof bodgery but (whilst still on roof) spots frustrated man trying to get past a large fallen tree whilst gesticulating meaningfully towards the back of Penfold’s large shiny car.
12.42 – Penfold starts to chainsaw the guilty tree into tiny, tiny pieces in the rain. The image of the crushed rear wing of his once shiny car burning into his mind like a red hot poker – wondering how one man could hate a simple tree so much when all that tree wanted to do was to grow and live and be part of the universe.
13.04 – Penfold and Tango start to fell remaining delicately balanced and leaning trees before they finish their descent into the barn roof. This arduous process involved the use of many expletives, a slightly frayed piece of rope, a blunt chainsaw and the need for one small sticking plaster.
16.12 – Penfold decides that he doesn’t “f*#king care if the house blows away” and sits down to watch some soothingly crap Sunday TV.
16.13 – Penfold hits the ‘on’ button but nothing appears.
16.14 – Penfold notices satellite dish has been wrenched from its mounting by the afore mentioned storm.
16.15 – Penfold decides to go back to bed. If nothing else this Sunday would end properly…
Please note that all times are approximations and some swearing sequences may have been greatly under-exaggerated for the safety of the public.
I didn’t surf today. Wish I had….