Severe weather warnings. Risk of flooding spelled in block capitals on TV.
Well, their predictions were right. At about 2.30 I was asked to take some books to the geography room.
These journeys always create a sense of trepidation within me. It means exposure. Finding and following new routes through the school buildings with its glass windows and faces always turning my way, eyes watching as I make may way trying to look purposeful and not at all lost as I confront the demon of disorientation that dogs me every step of way.
Through double doors. Down corridors and out again to where the playing fields are. The geography department is a series of mobile classrooms set down where the fields begin.
There's a grainy quality to the sky that is already taking on the coming of night. Trees at the boundary shake in the increasingly forceful wind that is turning, as they predicted it would, into a gale.
There's rain in the air, too. Beyond the hedge a ploughed field runs to the horizon. I stand for a moment. No-one can see me here.
I long to stay out in this rough weather. For too long I have been shut up in rooms and cars.