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Story outline: With as many as three big beefy workmen replacing the tiles that had blown off the roof directly above the bedroom, Sandra Anderson found it hard to resist the temptation that each one possessed. They noticed, of course.

After the freak storms of over 10 years ago, which resulted in the tiles on the roof having to be replaced, the weather gods were good to us. That was, until just recently.

At that time, the weatherman smiled as he assured those watching the weather report, which, as always, followed the news, that there wasn't anything like a gale on the horizon. How fucking wrong was he! It was devastating. Trees, specifically those that had been standing for hundreds of years and well-rooted into the ground, blew over, while some were shown to have landed on crumpled cars on the following day's news. In other cases, windows had blown in while tiles were scattered on the gardens and pavements below buildings.

The first we noticed it was when water from the accompanying rain dripped through the ceiling and splashed on my husband's forehead.

"What the...!" Fred exclaimed, aghast, before getting up. Having roused me from my peaceful sleep, I heard the wind howl like a mad crazed banshee.

...

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