The weather cannot decide today. I keep postponing my run because of apocalyptic dark clouds that disappear and then reappear as soon as I bend down to lace my trainers. Eventually I get tired of the sky crying wolf, and I go anyway. The wind is manic and capricious. Powerful gusts, from all different directions. The tall willows beside the river are thrashing around wildly, and several big branches are down, split and jagged. It's all very elemental. Unpredictable and adrenaliny, with the potential of trees falling like nine-pins. There's nobody else around (unsuprisingly) as I cut through the fields to Gorhambury, and the clouds grow ever darker. Some fat drops of rain fall, but are no match for the drying abilities of the extreme wind. Reach home with my ears singing, and my face stinging with wind-burn. I think it's safe to say that any cobwebs that were hanging around have been blown away.
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