Frankenstorm

The storms that assail the UK are now being given names alphabetically by the Met Office, in order to raise awareness of the dangers of extreme weather, apparently. The first one was Abigail in November. Tonight Frank (no. 6) is whirling around the house as I lie here in my cosy bed. I'm not sure if I would have realised that it was a storm if it hadn't been so named and announced on the news - I think I would just have thought it was a particularly wild and windy night. 

Anyway, earlier on it was bright and sunny and James and I took ourselves for a pleasant two hour walk around Greenock Cut. We had a good old chat on the way round and sorted out various topical issues such as the causes of all the flooding in Cumbria, the pros and cons of social media, and our next summer holiday. It was lovely to be out for a walk, and my formerly broken ankle was mostly fine. It started aching a bit towards the end of the walk, and this evening it was quite swollen. I'm not sure what causes this - can a bone be sore? Or is it the muscles around the bone? And why is it swollen? After all, I broke it three and a half months ago; surely it should be completely healed by now.

The cats were in fine fettle today, jumping around the house excitedly. We soon found out why - the dismembered body of a poor wee mouse was lying in the hall. It the first one they have caught for a while which accounts for their lively mood. I'm not sure that the unfortunate rodent found the experience so exhilarating.