Four things came to mind when a neighbour’s ceramic bird-feeder shot past my study window before disintegrating with a crash against the garden wall. First, that Eunice was a fine name for the faith-filled mother of Timothy, whom we encounter once with St Paul’s approbation at 2 Timothy 1:5; secondly, that with its meaning of “good victory”, it was a ridiculous name for a storm, especially one that turned out to be fierce enough to claim a number of lives; thirdly, that the Herald’s editor was, by my reckoning, still somewhere on Hadrian’s Wall; fourthly, that I was in the lee of the wind, and safe, and warm, and dry.