Apparently storms are brewing today.
When I was six years old I was blown over by a gust of wind during a storm. I rolled along the grass and fell into a river. Dad dragged me out fairly quickly though. We were on holiday in Crail with our flimsy and frail caravan but it remained undamaged throughout the ‘hurricane’. We sheltered in the caravan park club-house with everyone else during the height of the gale. The next day the winds were still high but not gale force. While walking from the camp-site shop with my Dad, (carrying fresh milk and The Daily Express) we took the scenic route back to the caravan along the wee river that ran through the park. Suddenly a stray gust of Scottish wind shot out from behind two caravans and bowled me over, sending me rolling down the river bank and into the muddy water. I was yanked out of the water by my belt in a state of shock. Luckily (and very cleverly) my Dad laughed the matter off and told me to get a move on as Mum would be burning the breakfast bacon while waiting for us. Tears were averted in favour of making my Dad laugh and the thought of crispy bacon and fried bread. When we got back to the van mum lit the gas fire for me and I ate my greasy meal wearing only a pair of fresh underpants.