Overnight a storm from the Atlantic howls and roars round The Rickety Old Farmhouse. Shutters slam, down pipes gurgle and owls hoot. Unperturbed by the sounds outside the PONs snore happily away.
Sophie returns from her early morning 'comfort break' . She's been caught in a sudden squall that's blown across the valley and up the hill. I'm guessing this is not going to be a good hair day.