So, after a succession of named storms through the end of 2024, 2025 was blown in by the most severe one, at least here in Kent, and appeared to be un-named.
The wind blew through most of New Year's Eve, causing hundreds of celebration events to be cancelled, so the country battened down the hatches and waited it out.
New Year's Day, at dawn, the storm had reintensifed and was gusting to nearly 70mph. The wind howled around our house up here on the downs, though the house seems undamaged.
High tide was just before midday, so at eleven we went out, first to St Martin's Battery, then down onto Shakespeare Beach itself, where the waves were crashing on the beach, and in little more than ten minutes we got soaked, but I got some shots.
The winds suddenly dies at three, and all was eerily quiet.
Having gone to bear early, we were up at six, and the wind was wild outside. We had coffee and breakfast, then waited until near high tide to go out.
I passed the time watching planes land at LHR in the strong crosswinds courtesy of BigJet.tv.
The roads were quiet, and only one ferry in dock, though there was inbound, but we couldn't see it quite yet.
Up at the battery, I went out and took shots of the waves crashing over Dover Marine station, and then the incoming DFDS ferry that was battling against the waves trying to get into the harbour.
That would have been a very rough crossing.
We then went down to the bast of Admiralty Pier, lots of parking at the pier was closed, so grabbing the camera we walked round to the track to the beach, and full force of the wind hit us.
That and the sea waver flung from the top of the crashing waves.
We struggled up the beach to the high tide mark, than we could see the waves beaching a few yards in front of us.
We struggled to stay upright, and were getting wet by the rain and waves, so after rattling a few shots off, we scuttled back to the car and came home.
The wind did drop, but as the Met Office promised, the winds were replaced by four hours of heavy rain, though by then it was really too dark to see it falling, though in the bathroom you could hear it beating down on the flat roof.
At three, Norwich kicked off on the tellybox, away at Luton. Never a happy hunting ground for us. And after a bright first half, we faded, until Núñez let rip with a shot from distance, that went through several players, out of the reach of the keeper and into the corner of the net.
1-0.
There was more football, but there had been five hours of it up to that point, so soon after supper, we both headed to bed to read before turning in at nine, as tomorrow we were both back at work.
