Ciara

Britain didn’t used to name storms. That was just something those stupid Americans did to make hurricanes seem less scary. Now that we’ve totally messed up the planet, periods of high wind and squally rain can be quite devastating to our infrastructure so we’ve decided our US friends weren’t quite so stupid after all. Giving the storm a name seems to help with the fear. Instead of blaming yourself for not looking after the planet or the government for not funding effective flood defences it can be Ciara’s fault.

Ciara has been an interesting choice of name because it stirs up some British/Irish mistrust.

“Why can’t they even be bothered to pronounce our names correctly?”

“Why do they have to use so many extra letters? “

If you are me, then a name will have you writing a story in your head. Ciara will become a flame-haired green-eyed giant with a strong Irish accent and a quick temper. 

In a basement of the Met Office, in a room without windows, sits Preston Peters; a small shallow skinned, bespectacled man, with a constantly worried look on his face. It is his job to monitor Giant activity. His, is quite a lonely job. Luckily, he doesn’t get invited out very often because it’s not acceptable to talk about giants at a dinner party. 

Giants are quite tragic creatures. Most of the time they lie, sleeping and unseen in the hills and mountains. If you have ever climbed a mountain then you will have wondered as you stood on a mossy mound and thought you felt the earth move under your feet if you are actually standing on a giant’s eyebrow. I know I have. They sleep through our warm weather, blissfully happy but as soon as the temperature drops in September they start to get restless and cross. 

Many are trapped in places they don’t want to be. When the earth shifted 335 million years ago, Irish giants like Ciara found themselves in Cornwall and Norwegian giants, such as Erik ended up in Ireland. When they wake they start to feel homesick. Occasionally, one will get so upset that they’ll blow. A giant rage is never pleasant and it is Preston’s job to keep an ear to the ground to give us an early warning. This is why we sometimes get a warning of a storm approaching before they’ve named it. Preston has just noticed a few restless giants in the South Downs. They’ve had a little argument about whose turn it is to pop into Lewes for pain au chocolates from that nice little bakery. Preston, noticed the early warning signs. They were stirred up by Ciara’s rage and although they’re not aware of it they have picked up her restless energy. Preston thought everything was going to blow over, if you’ll excuse the pun, but it turns out that Dennis just can’t let it go. He prefers pain aux raisins anyway and is about to really lose his shit. These little tiffs don’t usually amount to much but Preston thought that with the damage done by Ciara we ought to be informed. So Dennis is named and shamed.

Hold tight everyone. It won’t be much longer. Warmer weather is on its way and by April we should be in for 6 months of sleepy giants. 

Except, that I found Ciara’s hair bobble and took it home. I hope she doesn’t miss it and get cross again.

Ciara’s hair bobble (50p for scale)