We were hit by the weather bomb over the last 24 hours. Horizontal hail, gusts of wind strong enough to blow shitlands over and make the reality of smallholding seem like so much fun. In the early morning gloom I could see something was not quite right on the runway . The roof of the "spare" shelter (used for acclimatisation of peacocks, raise ducklings and imprison goats while garden fence is repaired) had decided to part company with the rest of it.
Not a lot left that's useful, but an interesting afternoons work added to the jobs list.