Windy city...

Well, I've officially started talking to myself.  I fully accept that this is an occupational hazard when you're on your own, but having a two way conversation with your dogs, all the time answering for them (in a different voice so you don't get confused as to who's who) is probably cause for concern.  Not to worry, I'll start getting really worried when I start talking to inanimate objects such as the sofa or the dishwasher (this has shown no sign of life for three days now).

The husband has been kind enough to call me a couple of times since riding off into the sunset, and I was relieved to hear that Storm Brian is no longer causing havoc over there.  Walking the fuzzballs yesterday morning, I thought that the stiff wind wasn't really destructive enough to be called a storm.  

Why do I think this?  

Well, all my fence panels are intact, and I haven't found a rogue trampoline or plastic picnic table in my garden.  I decided that maybe Storm Brian and been oversold, and should be renamed Blowing Brian.  However, this brought to mind a male escort on the wrong side of 60, winking lasciviously at me, and saying in a broad Leeds accent, 'Eh oop lass, fancy a nibble on my wally?' (This is a gherkin in case you're wandering whether this was an unfortunate typo).  

So then I reconsidered.  What about Gusty Brian?  This also was discarded as it made Brian sound like he'd been suffering the odorous after effects of eating all the wallies himself. (I mean, who wants a nibble on one of them?)   

And then my mind went into free fall...

Breezy Brian - Camp performer in pale blue velvet flares and matching waistcoat
Fresh Brian - Sounded like an up till now undiscovered French cheese
Drafty Brian - See wallies
Tempestuous Brian - Reminded me of Wuthering Heights for some reason
Wild Brian - Brought to mind a herb I used in a Masterchef recipe seventeen years ago

Finally, I decided that Blustery Brian would be a much better description of the 'slightly stronger than a stiff breeze' which was working its way through the bottom end of the country. 

All bluff and not much puff...


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