Tables Turned

<![CDATA[ At last we were the navel of the universe. A low-pressure system sitting directly overhead, so the sun was out and little wind yesterday. Mind you, 100 miles away at Tiree, they were holding on to their ferry terminal. And 250 miles away our poor tanker, the Border Heather, found the power was no longer with her. She had to be towed into port after her engine failed.

It also bugs me when a gale is forecast for our neck of the woods, because the BBC weathermen give it a cursory glance. The Met Office just about may issue a severe weather warning. Last year, on November 11, they didn't until the tiles were flying off the roofs here, and as a result the captains of the Muirneag and Isle of Lewis ferries thought they could just sneak across the Minch. Nope. Muirneag took 18 hours to complete the crossing, nearly putting into Torshavn on the way. The Isle of Lewis came close to discharging its passengers and cargo at Cromor I believe.

Going back to the point I was going to make, there was going to be a gale in England. Oh cor blimey. Stern-faced weathermen on the BBC. Weather warning splattered across the Met Office website a week in advance. OK, it was severe, I am led to believe. But can we have a bit of equality here, I mean we are just as equal as our cousins down south, thankyou.

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