An overnight storm put Luxembourg on weather code red, the one that says ‘hide under your bed clothes and quiver in terror’.
It was certainly windy, and the rain clearly had a great deal of fun running about and soaking everything in and out of sight.
I have many a memory of similar storms in the UK, especially when I was a child, listening in bed at the growl of the wind, the racing of the rain. Indeed, this storm made me feel somewhat comfortable, reminding me of safe times growing up in rural England.
I was often out and about in similar daytime storms back in blighty. They were, and are, fairly common there. Yes, one has to avoid damaged trees. Yes, one finds oneself walking over shattered tiles on the pavement. Yes, one is at greater risk, so one is minded to be careful. All justify a warning to those who can’t grasp the obvious. It’s all just part of life.
I suspect bringing back these familiar memories is not really the intention of the red storm warning. I’m going to respect the Luxembourgers’ request that non–essential journeys be avoided. The people running the country’s infrastructure know it well, they know its weaknesses and strengths. If it is likely to be put under stress by such a storm, then I will do my very minor bit by not getting in the way of those sorting the mess out. My ego isn’t so overblown I consider myself more important than the rest of the country, even though I’m not convinced there’s much to be fussed about.
So, instead of going into work, I’ll wait inside and imagine the wind is a bunch of tigers partying at a drunken celebration. What are they rumbling about? What are they celebrating? How do they dance? Why is that tiger grumbling so viciously? Which tiger is pretending to be a Spitfire pilot? Are those two really getting off together?
I might go out later, when things have calmed down, and, if there’s decent light, see if there are some storm damage photos to be snapped. Or maybe try to find a tiger party coat that’s blowing about.