I went to bed last night at 1.30am, having waited in front of the lightning strike detector for ages. There were two flashes, one somewhere west of Ely, March way, and another to the north of Ipswich, but that was pretty much it, and I thought, alright, it's not going to happen.
Two and a half hours later, all hell broke loose. I largely dozed through that one ("snored", OH insists) but the second storm at about 6am yanked me out of my sleep. As I lay there counting seconds between lightning and thunder, I remembered a news story I'd read about a lightning strike setting fire to a semi-detached home and the fire consuming the other side of the house as well and then thought idly about what items I would want to take with me if OH, myself and Neuroticat had to abseil out of the window in a hurry. I probably wound myself in knots over that question because I fell asleep again and woke up to the sound of rain and the aroma of fresh coffee coming from the mug next to the bed.
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