I am, in case you’re wondering, referring to the tempest that raged outside last night whilst we slept, or tried to sleep. It was the first of the “October gales”. Unless you are a newcomer to my site you will be aware already that our house is part of a Victorian terrace built into the cliff above the railway line and sea wall at Dawlish. You will also remember that our beloved sea wall, which protects our homes, thus enabling us to enjoy living with a constantly changing panoramic view of the sea, fell prey to the ravages of the storms early this year; and actually, the repair works are not yet finished. Listening to the wind and the wild waves as we lay in bed, Chris and I hoped that the machinery and equipment left on the sea wall would not be swept off.

Cocooned in winter bedclothes I felt cosy and safe, and it did not take long to fall to sleep. Every so often I was roused by the sound of turbulence beyond the double-glazing but I pulled up the covers and snuggled back to my slumbers. During the small hours, when deep in dreams, I awoke with a start to the crash of tons of water hitting against sea wall… and the earth shook (or rather the sandstone cliff, the foundations of our house shook and our bedroom, on the lowest floor of our house, shook).

In the morning Chris drew back the curtains to welcome the day; through the streaks of rain on the glass was a scene of grey mist  – no sky, no horizon, no out-to-sea – and waves, discernible only because of the white spume as they tumbled in on their way back out.

Three hours later the sun came out and I took some photographs of a completely different scene… Incidentally, the rig and all the equipment for sea wall repairs appear to have survived the storm.