Listening to the shipping forecast on radio 4 at one or more past midnight.
The idea that there is an orange glow of sodium bulb out there in a little cabin, held up in surrounding boat, in the black heaving water. The sky battened down with magnitude clouds piled up into the dark (somewhere there's a bone white moon shining nastily).
But also that, in this focus storm, there's a chap boiling a kettle for a cup of tea, in the middle of this roiling storm. And only a little pissed off. Because the waves crashing on the deck upset the kettle.
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