I drift off into a pleasant dream, one in which I receive a phone call asking if I am alright.
'I am fine, just missing you'
But in my dream it is not my Romeo who is calling me and I feel a fool. I wake again, the curtains are billowing in the stiff breeze as the wind continues to howl its protest. The splatter of rain on my window becomes the rattle of hail against the glass, my curtains straining now to escape the restriction of the curtain pole, the fierce wind bites my face the hail is stinging my skin and my picture of my lovely Romeo is covered in pieces of ice. Yes my window has never been repaired and still won't close, which is fine except on days like this. I wonder how many other people are assaulted by a face full of hail whilst they are still in bed!