04-10-2005, 11:07 AM
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The message
from (Nick Maclaren) contains these words:
It's when you get hit in the face by a wet fish that you know its
REALLY blowing :-)
You may laugh, but not so very long ago, the inhabitants of one village
on the Isle of Lewis came out after a particularly fierce whirlwind to
find fairly substantial fish strewn over a hillside on the common
grazing.
Whirlwinds can be quite impressive: I was helping on the staff of
Kingsdown Scout Camp one summer, and doing the rounds of site-inspection
with the Bailiff.
There was a rustling sound behind us and we turned to see a swirling
cone of dead grass, litter and suchlike approaching.
It swept down a shallow valley in the land. In its path was an approved
school troop's campsite: a marquee, several other large tents
(Icelandics, IIRC) a big dining shelter kitted out with two lines of
trestle tables, table with urn of tea, and with breakfast laid out -
cornflakes in bowls, ready to accept the milk, egg-cups, plates and
cutlery.
The whole site was plucked from the ground by the whirlwind, and it rose
to a height of at least ten feet just as it had been pitched, and then
as it rose it was folded up into a merry-go-round of canvas, tables,
forms, plates, cornflakes, egg-cups, cutlery, sleeping-bags,
groundsheets, etc, and carried at around twenty feet to the edge of the
campsite - which just happened to be the cliff-edge.
There, the conditions to support the turbulence ceased. I'm afraid the
bailiff and I were in stitches...
Meanwhile, the approved school boys and their Scouters were in the
Ablutions, and the expressions on their faces as they emerged a minute
after the show was over and looked round for their camp were - well -
you guess!
The poor hooters spent the morning on the (sloping) cliff face
recovering most of their belongings.
--
Rusty
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