ONCE upon a time we had weather. Just plain old weather - sometimes sunny, occasionally windy, usually wet. But now we have personalities visiting us from far-off climes.
The recent phenomenon of naming low pressure systems seems to make these storms - whether Desmond, Frank, Abigail or Conor - seem worse than they probably are in reality. Giving a spell of rough weather a title gives it some sort of weird personality and significance it barely merits.
Barbara and Conor veered to the north of their expected trajectories, leaving a vague and peculiar feeling of disappointment among some in Argyll that the seas weren’t rougher, more trees hadn’t been blown down and the disruption was little more than flooded roads and isolated power cuts.