Strange sounds and fresh breezes

The BBC weather forecast called it a fresh breeze. It wasn’t. It howled down by the harbour. It was like a rather bad, discordant percussion section – the boats rigging was jangling, clanging, ringing, knocking and all the time there was that interminable howling and whistling. It is rather magnificent but I wasn’t expecting it. Further into town and towards home garden gates rattled and a metal garage door clanked. At one point I thought someone was right behind me and turned round sharply letting out a cry. It’s the wind, it makes me jumpy. I’ve seen horses react the same, suddenly breaking into a canter, and chasing round and round their field. Earlier, while in my bath the radio went odd too. I was listening with real pleasure to a Haydn symphony and it suddenly stopped to be replaced first by a high pitch squealing and then by a lower kind of harsh white noise. It went on like that interchanging the sounds for about two minutes. I kept praying it would stop so that I wouldn’t have to get out of my bath wet and dripping to turn it off. It did stop and Haydn returned as if nothing had happened. Who knows what it was.

Sophie’s Cafe has a christmas tree up and lit. My second. What a joy. Thank you. Thank you. Especially as these mornings I can no longer smell the bread making aromas from The Pelican Bakery to ease me on my way in the dark. (They keep the door shut.) Christmas lights will do as a substitute. More please.

Now to work. Much to do. A couple more days then rest. And the rice fast will also be over. How I long for an apple. And real tea. (Just have some, he says.)

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.