It was a batten down the hatches night last night with a rip-roaring wind rattling everything that's not nailed down...the Dutch barn is roofed with sheets of corrugated tin...and they lift and then crash down with a resounding wallop every time there's a gust of wind...I lie awake listening and waiting for the tell-tale whoosh as one sheet goes flying over the fields...they stayed on though with a wing and a prayer.
All our little sheds have thick metal wires over their roofs attached to old railway nails which have been hammered in between the stones...they'll be going nowhere when there's a storm but the Dutch barn is relatively new and the roof is flimsy enough...
The back lobby...used to be two awful dingy dark sheds...now we keep the freezers in there and wellie boots and such-like...that has a Perspex roof, and falling leaves are like feckin great rocks in the middle of the night as they are blown down to rattle and bang...
Millie wept piteously because she couldn't jump over Bobby...Millie was on the chair and Bobby was lying fast asleep right in front of it...every now and then I'd tell her to fecks sake be quiet Millie...it's the middle of the feckin' night...will you ever be quiet. It wasn't until Himself got up to go to the bathroom and saw the problem and persuaded Bobby to move, that Millie leapt off the chair and went into the crib where she slept peacefully for the rest of the night.
The birdfeeder banged against the window and I dreamt I had to clear out two huge freezers stuffed with food and there was nowhere at all to put it and the washing machine wouldn't work and there was an enormous heap of washing to do...
And some eejit drove past at three in the morning and Himself said it'd be your man from next door and I thought it'd be drug dealers meeting on the bridge 'cos Breege thinks that's who the perfectly innocent fishermen are...Breege likes a bit of a drama and I can't think properly in the middle of the night actually.
I'm still sleeping on the settee you see 'cos of Himself and his prostate problems...he's up and down all night long poor old chap and has to go for another blood test next week...so I'm wrapped up in blankets on the settee with Eilis snoring beside me 'cos otherwise I'd not get a wink of sleep...not with Himself up and down all night long I wouldn't.
Then he opens the back door at about four in the morning to let Bobby out in case he needs a wee and I gather my blankets around my shoulders and wonder if it's worth the while getting up and filling my hot water bottle again and decide it isn't and the wind blows and rattles the roof and a dog far away begins to bark and there's an icy draught right by my right ear and I look back with fondness at those days when we lived in a centrally heated house with stout front and back doors and I didn't even need to wear pyjamas...