Storm ‘Abigail,,’ the first such weather system to be formally named by the UK Met. Office has been, and gone. What an anti-climax!

Here, in the Glasgow area at least, Abigail was like many of the dogs I walk: full of bluster but not much in the way of action.

Sure, she brought with her a doze of wind (again, much like many of the dogs in my lunchtime pack) but unlike her American / Canadian cousins who arrive fully tooled-up and raring to wreak meteorological havoc, she was distinctly ‘British,’ in her approach.

For a few days prior to her arrival, she politely knocked on the door of our Scottish coastline.

“Sorry to bother you,” she seemed to say. “I’m heading up towards the North Sea / Norwegian Sea areas and I really need to pass through. I don’t want to put you to any trouble. I’ll be as quiet as possible – I wouldn’t like to put you to any trouble. Thank you very much.”

And she didn’t.

“Excuse me, please. Coming through.”

Yes, we got wet. Soaked through, in fact.But it didn’t seem to bother Jazz, (Big) Louis and Marley. In fact, they loved having their gust guest over for the day.

‘Damp Dogs,’ and all that.