An ill wind

I really didn't like that..... That was a morning I don't want to repeat.
Last night, I was aware that I was getting low on fuel, but it had been a long day and, after my last lesson, I just wanted to get home. With hindsight, I should have taken ten minutes to go to my usual petrol station.
This morning, I had to set of just before 6.45am. The trip computer told me I had 24 miles worth of fuel left in the tank. I know it's not 100% accurate, but I was confident that I had plenty of fuel to get to the only petrol station in Nairn, 8 miles away, that is open at such a time. I pulled into the forecourt, only to find..... No diesel! Mon dieu! Cripes! and various other expletives. My options were: a) to wait in Nairn for half an hour until the two other petrol stations opened; or, b) press on to the next petrol station in Inverness, 16 miles away.
If I waited in Nairn I would have to cancel my first lesson. If I drive on to Inverness I risked running out of fuel (and then having to cancel maybe two lessons).
Not wanting to cancel a lesson, and being confident of my ability to drive in a fuel-efficient manner, I decided to drive on. I turned off the heater and the music system, then waited until a big lorry passed by, so that I could follow in their slipstream. As I pulled out behind the lorry, my trip computer said that I had 15 miles worth of fuel left.... And 16 miles to the next petrol station. Unfortunately, it just had to be the morning that a fierce gale was blowing straight towards me.... Why couldn't it have been blowing the other way?! So, despite the lorry ahead, I could still feel my car battling hard against the wind. And the miles left in my fuel tank were counting down fast.
12 miles left, 11, 10.... The wind was, if anything getting even stronger and I was having to press quite firmly on the accelerator to stay behind the lorry and not lose momentum. 9, 8, 7 miles and I still had more than ten miles to go. Not only that, but, on that stretch of the A96, there are not many places I could pull over and feel comfortable leaving my car if (when?) I did run out of fuel. By the time I reached Tornagrain roundabout I apparently had 3 miles of fuel left. Thirty seconds later the trip computer said 'Time up..... You are about to grind to an embarrassing halt.' (it didn't really say that, it just said '0 miles', but it might have well had said that). And I still had over five miles to go. I didn't even have a downhill stretch to help me (and even if there was, I'm convinced the wind was strong enough to try and push me uphill). The lights of Inverness and the Kessock bridge were getting closer.... At least now I wouldn't have to walk too far to get a can of diesel. Half a mile to go and I could see the lights of the petrol station teasing me. 200m and just two more roundabouts to go. Please don't run out of fuel on a roundabout. Phew! I got through the roundabouts and, to my immense incredulity and utter amazement, I made it into the petrol station and, thankfully, up to the pump. Never, never, never again do I want to put myself through that.
And I was going to end this post there, but the evening was equally tense.....
The wind didn't let up all day; if at all, it got stronger. So it was an unusual challenge on some lessons when some pupils were quite alarmed to feel how much the wind (especially a crosswind or headwind) could affect their steering. And home was an especially welcome sight for me at the end of the day.
Jane and I were sat, just finished dinner, enjoying some wine and listening to the wind howling around the house. Suddenly, there was a bang, a flash of light and the power went. We half expect a power cut when it's this wild but, looking out the window, I could see that some nearby houses still had power. Then we saw that one of the overhead electrical cables had been blown off the telegraph pole. It had crashed down onto the road, twisting in an arc over my neighbour's car and partly blocking the road. After calling the electricity company and the police I went out to see if there is anything I could do. It had only just missed our cars, so I moved them round the corner to try and create more room in the road. I've seen films and television where a live electrical cable snakes around, sending showers of sparks flying. Would this really happen? I usually have a scientific curiosity, but I certainly wasn't going to be experimenting with what was, as far as I was concerned, a live electrical cable. So, having moved the cars, I retreated to the safety (but darkness) of our front room to wait for the police and electricity company to spring into action.
A couple of minutes later, I watched in horror as the lady in the house opposite stepped outside her gate and, without a second's hesitation, grabbed the cable to try (unsuccessfully) to move the cable!!! She didn't die. Her hair didn't even stand up on end.
Why is it that, when you get a power cut, you get a strong desire for a cup of tea? Luckily, our neighbour, Irene, is a gem, and came round with a Thermos of boiling water (a bit disappointed that she didn't bring any cake though). She was far more proactive than the services - the electrical engineers took 2½ hours to turn up, and the police didn't bother at all! When my neighbour had grabbed the cable earlier I had wondered if I had been a bit silly not wanting to touch the cable. But when I saw the engineers handling the cable with 2m wooden poles I was relieved that I hadn't.