For the last few days, the UK's weathermen have been flailing their arms and predicting doom and destruction. The worst storm of the winter is coming on Sunday night, they said. Millions of pounds' worth of damage. Floods, gales, woe and despair await us all. The whole country will be hit. None shall escape.
A tirade worthy of those sandwich-board 'The End is Nigh' guys who used to be common on the streets. I wonder what happened to them? Perhaps their world did indeed end. Nobody else's did.
Anyway, it's now nearly 1 am on Monday morning, and outside is flat calm. Hardly a breeze. The wind is far less active than it has been for weeks.
Perhaps the weather is sentient, and enjoys making life difficult for meteorologists.
Or maybe the storm decided there was nothing worth breaking in the North.