An apple, a surfboard and a typhoon. Somewhere in the story.
“This,” said Rael, “is not typical English weather.”
“Naw, it’s a wee bitty rough,” said Shayde. This was supposed to be her holiday ‘home’. Now they were stuck in a hotel and glaring at the weather. “Even fer Wales.”
“It’s raining sideways. It’s sleeting sideways. This is a bit more than a 'wee bitty rough’.”
“Apple?” Shayde offered one from the complimentary bowl.
Usually, he wouldn’t bother. Too few calories. But, since he was in a bad mood, he wanted to eat. He took it and ate it like he wished he could eat the weather.
“I’ll order some chocolate, shall I?”
“That might actually be–”
{WHANG!}
Shayde yelped, landing in a defensive posture. Something bright and oblong had landed on their balcony.
“…is that a surfboard?” asked Rael. Leave it to humans to come up with a sport that involved looking like a seal over shark-infested waters.
“Aye, it is.” Shayde spent a minute wrestling it inside. “Y'always get some daft bugger tryin’ tae surf in freak storms. Lord let 'em be awright…”
Rael had little time for her theism, but had also given up on arguing. “How the flakk did it get to typhoons off the British coast?”
“I think it had som'at t’ do with global warmin’ an’ climate change…”
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