electric

I love thunderstorms. The best one ever was last summer in Tuscany, it was a zinger of a rip-roaring super-charged storm.

The second best was about 24 years ago in the Dordogne when I was working as a Eurocamp hostess - I spent the night fishing a tent out of the campsite swimming pool, finding emergency accomodation for a Dutch family and drinking whisky with some stiff upper-lipped Brits in the campsite bar at 5am.

The third best was last night in Paris - belly jiggering thunder and purple pink sheet lightning.

My sister reassures Mr L that you are highly unlikely to be struck by lightning, unless you are all alone with your arms upstretched in a field of grass with no trees or buildings within striking range... this does not reassure Mr L, who is doom laden in matters of health, dying and lightning strikes. In all other matters he has the sunniest disposition of anyone I have ever known.