WARNING: WOMAN IN NEWQUAY HAS FREE TIME. DEPLOY ATLANTIC.

I had plans.

Not particularly ambitious plans. Nothing involving mountaineering, international travel or the construction of a small hydroelectric dam. Just an extra day off and a few pleasant things to do over a long weekend.

The weather disagreed.

Apparently, the Atlantic Ocean had been reviewing my diary and decided that a woman enjoying three consecutive days off constituted an unacceptable threat to the natural order.

So it sent Cornwall a storm or two.

I actually like a good storm. Rain tapping against the window, the occasional rumble of thunder, a bit of wind making the trees dance.

This was trees attempting advanced yoga without the necessary qualifications.

Down at Aldi, perched on a cliff above Great Western Beach, the wind tunnel was doing what it does best.

Attempting to remove people from Cornwall.

One chap crossed the road by side-stepping into the wind at an angle that suggested gravity had been subcontracted to someone incompetent. A runner rounded the corner, briefly jogged on the spot, then got blown back the way he’d come. Other pedestrians needed an escort of men in hi-vis jackets just to reach the opposite pavement.

Across Cornwall, events were being cancelled, roads closed and roof tiles relocated.

So I stayed indoors.

Under ordinary circumstances, this is one of my favourite activities. I am extremely good at staying indoors. I have years of experience and require very little supervision.

But there’s a difference between choosing to stay indoors and being informed by the atmosphere that leaving the building would be an act of spectacular stupidity.

I’d been looking forward to fresh air, scenery and possibly the exchange of money for something completely unnecessary.

Instead, I sat at my computer and worked on Crowdecks.

Six hours later, I’d published another issue of While You Were Watching Them Moo, checked parliamentary sources, wrestled with website administration and generally accomplished far more than I’d intended to on my day off.

Apparently, this is how I’m productive now. The Atlantic imposes house arrest until I’ve finished my homework.

Still, the website gets updated. The newsletter gets published. The house remains standing, which is always encouraging.

Tomorrow, I might go for a walk.

Assuming the pavement is still there.