Ah well!

"Please don't write anymore about the hail. Someone up there is clearly reading your blog. The pictures look awful. Do hope 'our' vines are still standing. If there's clear-up work to be done immediately, shout and I'll rally the troops.

Clare"

(Email from Chai boss, Clare Tooley)

So I shouldn't have written that last blog. Saying there wasn't much hail risk!

Wrong! 

Very wrong!

The giant Flymo from the sky picked us this time. Friday evening, we had hail coming in the windows bouncing round the room. But marbles not golf balls.

So … Close, but we'd escaped?

No.

The really big stuff swooshed in from Branne way, a line across the valley and clobbered the vineyards just over the hill, around our baker's in St Magne. A short walk. Horrible to see Saturday morning. Just horrible. All leaves gone. The eye of the storm must then have veered north west and clobbered Belves, nicking the bottom part of Henry's vineyard. Maybe not total wipeout. But close.

There's a meeting of growers today and Aurelie has gone to find out the full story. Henry sounds philosophical about it. Probably the best way to take it.

But we can understand the feeling of utter helplessness in the face of nature that caused growers in the old days to fire mortars at the thunderclouds. Bonkers of course. Didn't do any good at all. But you must vent your rage somehow.

All sunny and clear over the weekend. Mother Nature smiling sweetly, saying "Who? Me?"

Just walked 2 hours to Saint-Emilion. No signs of damage along their bit of the Côtes. Just Unlucky Castillon again.