Hail and farewell

Before I forget, I want to make note of a very small incident:

We had hail this week in the Frozen North – in my particular neighbourhood, popcorn-sized hail two days in a row. Fortunately Sin-Ang, my new-to-me vehicle, has had hailpox before and is therefore immune. Down the hill, at Chez DiMento, they were not so lucky: golf-ball hail hammered the hapless Volkswagen of Sarah’s POSSLQ, leaving it with a bad case of pox on the very eve of their departure for a week-long road trip. The VW is drivable but not, I am told, so pretty as it was.

Although we only had popcorn up on the hill, it was very vigorous popcorn. The storm began very suddenly Tuesday afternoon, and I was answering a call of nature and did not have time to shut the windows right away. One hailstone, blessed by its Maker with a combination of marksmanship, daredevilry, and bloody-mindedness seldom seen in balls of ice, bounced in my open window, ricocheted madly round the bedroom, then found its way across the corridor and into the W.C. where it exploded on the wall in front of me with a triumphant smash.

In all my mumblety-mumble years, my lords and ladies, I swear that I have never before been hailed on in the loo. But now I have.