Wuthering Heights
The wind is begging to be let in.
It has been rattling at the doorknob, sliding sharp fingers between the louvred window slats all night.
And I am suddenly struck by the notion that it is not a house I am sitting in, but a sailing vessel, or the top of a very large tree.
Embattled, embattled.
What am I to do?
Update: I knew there was a reason I felt this cold. I intially thought it was just me running a temperature, but no, I have been disproved but none other than the venerable Bureau of Meteorology.
Today, being the coldest day in 80 years, saw BrisVegas hitting a low of 7 degrees, with a wind chill factor of 0 degrees. The cold’s a separate annoyance from the wind that’s going at a rattling 70km/ hour.
Holy cow - if there were cows unfortunate enough to be left out in the open, we’d be having frozen milkshakes. A friend in Toowoomba said the wind chill factor ran into the negatives in their neck of the woods.
