Thunder and lightning, very, very, frightening . . .

On Monday we decided to go for our annual camping holiday, which since the kids have grown up, and the grandkids have also reached adulthood, has been reduced to 3 days and 2 nights. We went up to Norfolk. On arrival the onshore wind through the campsite was around 30 mph. It soon rose to a 50 mph gale. I went into a massive struggle with fibreglass bendy tent poles and flimsy tent material - that's how they make 'em these days - and sadly lost the contest. Three large gentlemen emerged from their tents and between us we managed to subdue the rebellion. Immediately the tent was habitable a storm came in - see above photos of storm coming in - and before long we could add a biblical flood to the wind, then hailstones as big as mothballs, and finally the accompaniment of thunder and lightning. We repaired to the car to watch the display of forked and sheet lightning (I've been assured cars are safe in such circumstances) immediately over our heads while listening to the full version of Max Bruch's 'Scottish Fantasy' on Classic FM radio. The storm left on the last note of 'count the folk songs' symphony. Norfolk! I should have guessed. They say the north folk have to shout at each other all the time to be heard above that unseen element that rages across their flat landscape. Wherever you go in that county the flags have tattered trailing edges and the birds look aggrieved at being flung about the sky. Interesting though and we got to see a double-rainbow at the end of it all. If you study the above photo in the two top corners you can just make out a faint echo of the bright arch below.