Dodging the storm. Blowing the roof off. Being evacuated - here and elsewhare. .

 I looked at my weather app first thing. It told me: “Drizzle stopping in 10 minutes, resuming in 40 minutes.” I checked out of the window to be sure; it wouldn’t be the first time that the real world and the virtual world of phone apps are radically different. But this time it seemed to be correct so I hurriedly donned my running gear and set off to go round the village. All good. It has rained on and off since then but at least I was not out and about in it.

So here I was, congratulating us on having more or less been ignored by Storm Gerritt, nothing more than a lot of gusty wind and rain, some of it blown horizontally along the street but nothing to write home about. Then this morning I read reports of houses in nearby Stalybridge having their roofs blown off by a tornado, just part of Storm Gerritt! 

This is not just a few slates blown off but the whole roof lifted as a slab, exposing the attic space underneath to the elements. Imagine how terrifying it must be to wake up to that happening. It’s major construction work, and no doubt it will have repercussions in the cost,of buildings insurance! In one case, my daughter tells, the tap half of the gable end of a recently built row of terraced houses was simply torn away, destabilising the whole building.. Good grief! We expect to hear that sort of thing up in Scotland but this is getting a little close to home! People have been evacuated to sleep in town halls.

Of course, it doesn’t begin to compare with the evacuation still going on in Gaza, where groups of 60+ people are trying to live (or at best survive) in three-room apartments. Where they weep at having to turn away yet more families who ask if they can join them. Where they feel guilty that all they can offer as shelter for the families they have to turn away is a tent. Where they feel guilty because it is so hard to find somewhere to pitch a tent. Where they feel guilty if they have food, knowing that others do not.

Riad’s latest Gaza Diary entry ends like this:

“9pm. It is Christmas today. In another country, far away from ours, there is a family celebrating. Their house is full of light, they are smiling, hugging each other out of love, sharing gifts and hoping for the best future.

Here, there is no Christmas. Instead, there are families living in complete darkness, sad, hugging each other out of fear, sharing prayers, and hoping they will get out of this nightmare alive.”

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!