fourteenvember

A fog warning for the whole of the south and east of England. Hastings was clear and trying to brighten up – I had assumed it would be hidden under a cloak of fog but I have to remember that while these weather warnings stretch down to the coast, they often don’t apply to our extreme location as Things Are Different On The Coast. Likewise, we often get more geo-specific weather warnings due to more uniquely coastal weather – lately that has meant southerly winds and a higher number of lightning storms than I would have expected out over the Channel.

The fog descended as my train rolled north through the Weald, and in places the visibility was down to a hundred metres or so. The landscape rendered under a cotton wool gauze in almost-monochrome, with only the yellowing leaves that still cling to the trees providing any visual relief.

At home in the evening I turned on the radio to the frequency we had been listening to on Sunday night – an unusually strong signal from France Musique on 90.2MHz that had somehow fought its way up rural France, over the Channel, then up and over a hill or two, down to us – a distance of some 130km.

Twenty four hours earlier, the signal had been strong enough that we’d enjoyed an hour or two of a fairly esoteric collection of modern classical music playing through the stereo, and with a combination of Shazam and the France Radio app, I identified a number of tracks I wanted to check out again.

Tonight, though? Static. Barely a hint that there was ever a signal there. Such is life, and it showed me that where the tropospheric forecast had predicted a decent lift the past few days, it now showed nothing, and this was evident from the actual experience of tuning around the FM band. I kind of love it. Radio as weather.

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