Killer Coconuts

11am

I find it quite amusing that I came here to avoid being in the Baltic Sea on a ship (for work), and now am in pretty much the same weather, if not worse. I suppose at least I avoided the sea-sickness. Hurricane Florence is only a Category 1, but that has confined us to our houses. The power went out at 5am, so I am feeling pretty greasy with the combination of no shower (the water runs on an electric pump) and no airconditioning. Not to mention decidedly curly-haired. We can't even go outside for a walk due to the threats of falling coconuts (no, really, I'm serious) and renegade mailboxes, garage roofs, power lines and palm fronds.

We are reduced to listening to a small battery-operated radio in the candlelight, with perhaps the most annoying radio announcer of all time. Her chirpy updates from her cosy studio is driving Lisa to tears, interspersed with "news" consisting largely of call-ins from local businesses telling us how resilient they are, and a hell of a lot of advertising from companies making incontinence accessories for the elderly. 24,000 of us are without power on the island - nearly 80% of homes. There isn't much information coming out from the power company, who are no doubt hiding in their generator-powered houses. Bermuda has overground electricity, which isn't that smart considering the relatively frequent hurricanes.

Turns out Simon was right with his dry comment last night "Oh it's really dull now. Unless the roof blows off, it's going to be really boring".

One minor excitement is the stupid photos that Lisa and I took yesterday are apparently on the BBC website (see pic 8, taken by yours truly albeit in a slightly staged way ... I wanted a picture of a large black Bermudian woman wearing a showercap but missed her!) Going for yet another nap ... more soon.

1.30pm

They said it would get better, but it hasn't. No not the hurricane , the radio announcer. We are now suffering through Calypso music hosted by a languid West Indian. As the station tries to phone the Weather Bureau (completely hanging up sometimes or getting call-waiting interruptions) we decide to take yet another nap...

3pm

After a day spent trying to amuse ourselves by eating too many pretzels, drinking Dark 'n Stormys, sleeping, and finally resorting to watching a few episodes of South Park on the laptop before the battery ran out, we have survived! The power is back on, we are all madly emailing friends and family, checking out Lisa's photos and contemplating the luxury of actually leaving the house. But darkness looms on the horizon - there is a brand new Tropical Storm "7" approaching, due to hit Thursday. I am wondering if I'll EVER get a tan, let alone be allowed to leave.

Live from Hurricane Florence

So much for lying on a beach sipping rum cocktails ... I am currently shuttered and bolted into my friend Lisa's house, as Hurricane Florence approaches (although, as I said to Lisa, last night Bermuda had been practically blown away according to CNN, while the Bermuda weather site was predicting things might get "a bit breezy"). Typing this as fast as possible since the power is due to go out in 40 minutes, so apologies if the writing is not quite up to standard...

I managed to make it in on the last British Airways flight from London to Bermuda, unfortunately sans camera. Since I'm obviously a terrorist, I was not allowed to bring my precious Nikon D-70 on board since that would have been a second piece of hand luggage. (At least I was allowed the small mercy of a lipstick, which unglamourous travellers to the USA were not allowed to take).

The question is, when the hurricane hits, what exactly do we do? After a patient day of swimming despite warnings (including close encounters with jellyfish which after the sad death of Steve Irwin distburbed me immensely) I am fearing a day of cardgames or worse, Lord of the Rings: The Boardgame. Considering I fell asleep in the third Lord of the Rings film, this does not bode well. (Take that Eoin, who called me a geek).

Ok, we are now attempting to use the last of our power to project DVDs on the wall and get our last doses of email, Homestarrunner.com and the lost art of literature. And the washing up. And the toilet - it will apparently not flush tomorrow and will require us to take a bucket of water from the bath (conveniently pre-filled) in order to maintain the household hygiene.

Oh god... here we go!

More when Belco, the Bermudian Electricity Company, bestows power back upon us...