‘Storm Brian’: A Salutary Tale

Towards the end of October, just a few weeks ago, I was on a brief stay in Hastings on the Sussex coast of England, when I, inadvisedly as it turned out, ventured out to explore the seafront at a time when a storm had been forecast.  The following is a brief, tongue-somewhat-in-cheek, version of this experience. 

STORM BRIAN

Storm Brian hit me from behind;
I thought at first I didn’t mind.
I’d got my coat, my trusty hat,
No way this wind would master that.

I leant into its force and walked
With steady feet, the road then forked.
My street map useless in my hand
In such a desolate stormy  land.

A lady loomed into my view,
She’d help me find my way I knew,
But, quite oblivious to my plight,
I spoke to her, being polite,

When asked the way all she could say
Was “Gimme me a fiver, then I may.”
I hesitated for just a second,
As though my better nature beckoned,

But suddenly the storm grew worse;
I moved on heedless of her curse.
I knew I must keep heading west,
 Just did not know which road was best.

So, wishing I could be elsewhere,
I hurried on, I’d soon be there.
But then the ground before me rose;
Uphill I staggered led by my nose,

Into a hailstorm, sharp and biting,
I almost thought ‘This is exciting.’
But ice-drops bit into my face,
I wished I was some other place.

And then, beneath, my feet were taken,
Leaving me completely shaken.
Lying on the hard wet pavement;
Perhaps, for some, brief entertainment,

But nor for me, sprawled out like this,
Certainly not my apotheosis.
Then, lying there I heard a car
Pull up and fling its door ajar.

“Come on, old fellow, get inside.
I’ll take you home to your fireside.”
And that he did, this kindly chap,
I won’t forget that day’s mishap,

Nor will I venture out again
When Storm Carol hits my weather vane.

 

U.K. Storm Names 2017-18