As I walked through a weirdly warm yet windy afternoon, I noticed the reflection of the sun in the river was a startling gold colour.
Looking up, I was intrigued and unsettled to see that orange skies were closing in, and the light was rapidly dimming. The sun was almost like a red candle flame, fluttering and lost amid swirling, sepia clouds. I wondered briefly if I had been transported to a film set – some kind of futuristic dystopian vision?
A quick search on Google enlightened me. Hurricane Ophelia had whipped up sands and debris from the Sahara, and was pulling it across UK skies.
I had to stop and look up.
I was looking at sand from the Sahara desert. In the sky. Over my town.
A reminder that this little corner of England is part of the bigger picture. That the Sahara, and other places, are real and are there even if I can't see them.
Well. It kind of blew me away.