Angry weather

The rain and hail are raging at the windows. Again. The wind is pummeling the walls and roof, again. There’s a red weather warning just south of us, again.

Earlier today, we ventured out into a break in the weather. It promptly threw sideways hailstones, so we took the dog back home, and went out again, with extra layers. The beach was smothered in rubbish and grey foam. Out to sea, the usual thuggery of oil rig support vessels had all fled the storm; there was nothing but waves and a jet of brown water from the rivermouth. Looking south over Aberdeen Bay we could see waves crashing across the breakwater and behind it, another oil rig in the new deepwater harbour, absurdly larger than the lighthouse, the ness, the city buildings, larger than everything else in the landscape.

My butt is on the radiator and I’m not warm enough and it’s not because of the air temperature. The weather is _angry_ out there, and I know why.

And it’s going to be like this, worse and worse every year, for centuries.