BLOWN AWAY

So calm before the storm - view from my terrace

I realise I've been writing about the weather for two days now - what's this all about? Getting old, or something? Old Big Mama! Well, the truth is the weather is an all-round topic in every part of the world, not confined to any one nationality. The British like to think they're world champions at discussing the weather, and the social anthropologist I mentioned the other day - Kate Fox - goes on in great length about this in her book "Watching the English".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kate_Fox

Strange light - storm brewing

I need to say just a few more words about the weather here in the southernmost easternmost corner of France - the department Pyrénées-Orientales, region Languedoc-Roussillon. At the same time as this is one of France's sunniest areas (sun kissed, sun licked, all of that), it's also probably the windiest. I have no statistics to show, but the way I've been literally blown away down here - like Mary Poppins - I know it to be true, not to mention anything you let lie around without tying it down - flower pots, garden furniture, rubbish bins, pool covers, bicycles, toys, clothes on lines, even pegged down, - you name it - will be lifted up and transported a long way if you don't take precautions. No statistics on this either, but I'm sure parents tie their babies down on hurricane days.

Definitely storm brewing - Tramontane clouds

All the inhabitants down here are amateur weather forecasters - and they are always right about their predictions. They look at the sky and the clouds and go: "Here comes the Tramontane" - a northern wind that accelerates down from the mountains to the lowlands - or they look out to sea and go "Here comes that ocean wind from the Mediterranean," or "This is a crosswind of some sort."

If you venture outside pretending to be ladylike with a nice and tidy hairstyle - just forget it. Or use a can of hairspray.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tramontane

Just after we'd bought the house here, we invited some friends from Norway for a long weekend. We had half a day of calm, then the fury started. We were whipped by slashing gusts, our skin was peeled (for free though!) by tiny pieces of sand and grit travelling at 180 kilometres per hour, our tear canals got a rough beating and have probably never recovered. We should have stayed inside of course, but you do so want to show your friends your new-found paradise. Hmmm. (They've been back - several times - believe it or not).

Sunny and hot July Saturday, then ice cold and stormy Sunday (ravaged by the Tramontane), then sunny and hot Monday. No precautions taken on the Sunday, so the parasol broke.

Stormy day in the village of Collioure - still beautiful

When we left with our friends (several of us with colds), the rubbish bin had been whirled down the road and was bidding us "Au revoir" with the lid banging furiously, like a big grey monster with a grotesque chopping mouth, coming after us at the same speed as we were driving away. I started to laugh hysterically and wondered about putting the house on the market there and then. But no. I decided to accept life the way it is - under the Pyrenees.

Snowstorm on our French street two years ago - VERY rare fortunately