The thunder relieved the tension that had been building up all week, and lightning made us into old movies; we flickered in stuttering movements in the dark, moving to the windows to watch and wonder.
Today, a cooler wind blows and it's the Day of Snails.
Over sodden paving stones they glide with a determined slurp; verily, they are the size of hippos!
They bear down on vulnerable, timid little shoots and dissolve them in an instant with their chemical teeth.
Grouped in a fan shape, they strategise like veteran soldiers; they have miserable greyish yellow uniforms and nasty juicy bodies with an elaborate frill at the base to ensure maximum contact with their chlorophyllic lunch.
I swore at one particularly large beast: "F*ck off!".
I don't think they've got ears, though.