By the time we walked to college the madness had calmed and the wind had dropped to an oddly warm, soft breeze. Stunning clouds, and 'flocks' of tiny bats, don't think I've ever seen bats in the morning?
Now the weather has woken up again after its brief rest. The house is full of odd creaks and settlings, the garden a leaf wasteland.
On the walk I felt calm and somewhat elated; now, the wind is whipping the house again and I feel strange, like something is lurking in the woodpile outside, or in that dark shoe cupboard.
I can understand why people say the 'Mistral' makes people lose their minds.