A Perfect Storm

It was an interesting day yesterday. Taylor and I were playing an acoustic set at a local beer festival which, despite us now living on totally different sides of the country and therefore having limited time to practise together, went pretty well.

After our set, we set about enjoying what the festival had to offer – which meant listening to some drummers, having a few drinks and eating some chunky chips. Mum has been busy with the packing, so it was nice for her to let her hair down a little bit and have a bit of a break. We were, with the exception of Taylor the designated driver, all a little tipsy.

It had been a glorious day. The sun had been shining, it was warm, if a little humid – almost perfect Festival weather. There were odd patches of rain, some a little heavier than others, but not even noticeable enough to remind me that I’d left my washing on the line.

Then the gazebo we were sat in started being lit by flashes of lightning. We couldn’t see it anywhere, but the whole sky lit up with the flashes. A sky that was now an almost uniform grey.

A few people were outside watching. We went to join them, straining to see round some trees. We didn’t have to wait long for an arc of lightning to cut across the sky in plain view, drawing our attention to the oncoming clouds.

We could see how fast they were moving towards us. We stood at the top of a hill, looking down into a valley and watched as the clouds raced in our direction. It was like something out of an apocalyptic movie – clouds like teeth in the sky swept towards us.

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Just ahead of the storm front, the wind picked up. It went from lightly breezy to blowing a gale. The wind battered against us, driving us back towards the tent. The first few drops of rain hurt when they struck our skin.

Then the storm passed over us. Driving rain that soaked those valiantly battling with the gazebo doors, wind strong enough to make closing those doors take the efforts of four men. The walls of the gazebo bowed inwards and the noise of the rain was deafening.

So, surprisingly, was the sound of laughter. Despite the storm practically ruining the festival, everyone was in high spirits. Amazed by the experience of watching the storm come towards us like that, and aided by a general state of tipsiness, everyone had a really good time.

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The photo doesn’t quite do justice to the battle with the door, but you can see how wet Mr T. is, and that’s inside the gazebo. Mum’s look of half terror, half amusement pretty much sums up how everyone felt.

Not quite the experience I was expecting of the festival, but one I feel will pop up in my writing from time to time in the future!

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