The imperfect Storm

We were promised a storm. The weatherguessers had been banging on about anticyclonic irrigation and tornado alley in the corridors of uncertainty so we made sure we went out in the morning. I scooted to 3 different parks and met schoolfriends in all of them. Incredibly, however many times the youths in Prince Albert Road park said bad words beginning with F and C, I failed entirely to pick them up.
The new Lego Tower of Epic Proportions is coming on well. We made levels out of doors, fences, windows and Jof added Lego Sandbags and barbed wire. It is impressive, but not yet complete. When it is, you shall indeed see it. It has reached 106 levels, and we've only just got the Castle bits, railway track and staircases down.
Late in the day, Jof went to Asda and bought me a Lego windmill and exactly the same box of random bricks that I bought yesterday, coincidentally at exactly the same time we ordered a refill box of bricks from a well-known south-American jungly online retailer. This is when we noticed that Jof has put a slimline dishwasher in her online shopping basket at the same cyber-shop.
So all these new bricks and some slopes got incorporated into the rapidly expanding structure, and meanwhile it drizzled gently. The promise was to wait until a really decent thunderstorm, drive to the seafront and sit in one of those sort of little bus stop things on the promenade so we could see the lightning, witness the thunderclaps, all without actually getting rained on. Did it happen? Did it Poldarks. I have been waiting at least 4 years for this promise.