The New Year blows in

Cliffs to the west of Rock-a-Nore, showing the part that collapsed into the sea

A sea view is terrific, but it does come at a price - namely the winter gales.  Usually we have them in October, but it won't have escaped the notice of anyone except those dwelling in caves that this year the end of December and beginning of January have been dominated by gales blasting their way across the UK, fuelled, it appears, by extreme weather conditions in the United States.  

We're now pretty used to it, but experiencing the full onslaught of the usual southwesterly in the Shoebox is quite scary.  The building that houses the Shoebox and its neighbour No. 8 is only attached in part to the next house along.  Two of the building's sides are timber-framed and tile-hung (in other words there's a framework of oak beams with tiles then hanging on a frame added to the outside face of the oak beams; a degree of further protection from the elements is afforded on the inside by a combination of tongue and groove panelling and lath and plaster walls).  The result of this is that the building is not so rigid as a fully brick-built structure.  In a gale there is distinct movement, which can be alarming on the upper floors.  I take comfort in the fact that it's stood upright for 200 years and is not about to collapse.

We were away for the major storm just before Christmas, but there's been quite a lot of wind blowing down the chimney and against the windows since our return.  Mercifully we had the windows draft-proofed when the rest of the building works were done a year ago - though the guarantee only covers winds up to sixty miles an hour, which isn't always enough.  There will doubtless be some repairing work to be done in the Spring, but so far we're surviving.

Which is more than can be said of the cliffs along the road from us.  Sodden from the torrential rain, the sandstone has been under massive pressure from the onslaught of waves at high tide.  A large chunk of it collapsed a couple of days ago.  A video of the rockface crumbling into the sea was broadcast on the South-East News and as a result there were streams of visitors yesterday looking at the sight from the car-park.  The car-park itself was a bit of a no-go area, since the waves were crashing over part of it, and washing shingle over the sea-wall.  This morning we woke to calm: a welcome lull after what seems endless days of wind, but as I type this the windows are being buffeted again and it looks as if there is more to come.  The only good thing about this weather is that sooner or later it comes to an end.

Antony Mair