Luxembourg, Hilversum, and the twirl of a dial...

We had wet in Wales at the weekend. Not a surprise. It was forecast to flow in from the sea and it did. By lunchtime Saturday the rain was torrential just as we were out walking the lanes following Holly around on her horse.

The dark clouds gathered quickly rolling in off the mountains and down into the fields spooking the horses and bringing a chill that made me shiver.

The wind picked up, tossing twigs and straw in front of my feet as I walked - and then I began to notice a gentle hum. It seemed to be all around, in the air, definitely there but almost not, phasing in and out as the air grew heavier and the temperature began to rise making me sweat under my wet weather coat.

I looked for wires. I often hear the humming in them (I would have made a good linesman for the county) but there weren’t any and the hum was gradually getting louder.

Passing a field, out of the corner of my eye and through a hedge, I saw a large white shape. What was it? I hadn’t noticed anything before, but then I’d only walked this way a couple of times so I may have missed whatever it was - or perhaps it was new.

Coming level with the gate to the field I looked in and saw what was causing the whiteness. It wasn’t new. It looked like it had been there a very long time, or maybe it had always been there because in the centre of the field was a huge white stone pointing upwards to the ever darkening sky like an accusing finger.

I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like the undulating hum was coming from the stone and it was definitely getting louder.

I stood there looking at the stone open-mouthed, a little unsettled, sweating under my wet weather coat and listening to the hum which sounded like the noise I used to get as a boy tuning in between stations on the radio. Luxembourg, Hilversum, snatches of some strange guttural european language, the chattering of gremlins and imps phasing in and out of the ether. Longwave, shortwave, medium wave. The rise and fall of the whine interspersed with crackling static as I turned the cream bakerlite dial looking for something I never seemed to find and always knew I wouldn’t.

I sweated, watching the stone as it seemed to get lighter in colour, it almost seemed to glow, growing brighter as the whining hum grew louder as something turned the dial – Hilversum, Luxembourg, the chattering of imps and gremlins.

CRACKZZZzzzzzzzz-z-z-z.

A flash from the stone, an end to the humming and the smell of electricity in the air. Just what was that? It wasn’t thunder. I didn’t see any lightening.

And then the rain began all at once and torrential.

I looked at the stone standing in the field as before, it wasn’t as white and it didn’t seem to glow any longer. I couldn’t hear any trace of the hum, the air felt calmer. I shivered, realising that the temperature had dropped again and that I’d stopped sweating inside my wet weather coat.

And then I sneezed.