A few weeks ago gales and gusts blasted across Scotland, ripping branches from trees, snapping thick trunks and pushing over entire trees. The pavements and street gutters were littered with leaves still lush and green. It was so peculiar for May. It was like God had developed a persistent cough and didn't know he could pop into his local chemist for a cure. As an OAP he would have qualified for the Minor Ailment Service so wouldn't have had to pay, although narrowing his address to one post code may have been problematic, as might his date of birth. So maybe he did know this, being omniscient, and I'm going to hell for blasphemy.