As I was turning the corner coming back from my walk along the lock front with Maggie this afternoon, the wind nearly swept me off my feet (and I am no lightweight, even after almost a five stone loss).
It was also bloody cold and I’d forgotten my gloves, so Maggie’s lead was round my wrist so that I could keep my hands in my pockets.
Sadly, she takes this as the signal for biscuits or treats, and I didn’t have any, so I was forever holding them up, palms spread, saying
‘All gone’ so that she would stop pestering, until the next 2 minutes that is.
It took me back to the storms of 1989, when there was a lot of wind damage to woodland, properties and gardens. I took photos in the New Forest, and one tree that had been uprooted left a crater over eight feet across. Pathways were blocked, some roads impassable, and property insurance claims rocketed, as did subsequent renewal premiums.
I had been walking from the office to the shopping centre and as I rounded the corner by the bank, the wind hit me with such force that I was slammed against the wall and the breath taken out of me.
I was about the same weight as I am now, so obviously wind to weight ratio was bang on.
I often wonder about wind described as Blustery or Gusty.
Either are pretty forceful but ‘blustery’ is usually associated with showers and ‘gusty’ normally refers just to the wind.
I suppose you could therefore assume that with blustery you’re likely to get wet hair, and gusty provides the blow dry.