Startling

 

Startling

A cannon shot, a thunderous crash, a racing cat, an avalanche of noise, rushing, slipping, sliding, roused me from my reverie on a cool, quiet morning.

Investigation revealed a shattered panel in the conservatory roof. Many fragments were suspended in the roof blind, many, many thousands more were scattered across the floor, glinting in the pale sunlight. Chairs and sofa were decorated with shards, and house plants large and small held glittering slivers between their leaves like precious gems.

Two hours later there were further reports as more of the inner pane was released. The rain of glass continued intermittently for six hours. There are 13 self-cleaning glass panels in the roof, well, only 12 now, though the external pane is intact. That was fortunate as it began to rain later in the day.

Thanks are given that no-one, feline, canine or human, was hurt. Will any of the other panes follow a similar path? There is no way of knowing. Perhaps we should all wear hard hats in the conservatory.

Glass is a super-cooled liquid and can last for hundreds of years, or it may simply collapse without visible cause. However, spontaneous glass breakage is a rare phenomenon. Our first experience of it occurred about fifteen years ago, when the double-glazed glass panel in the porch by the front door exploded.

The most dramatic glass-related event happened during our wine-making days. I say ‘our’ days but they were actually Barry’s. The part the rest of us played was limited to collecting ingredients. We spent a happy couple of hours picking dandelions one year. Anyway, we stored the products in demijohns and it was one such vessel that imploded one day. Fortunately, it was empty.  Paraphrasing Plato, ‘empty vessels make the most noise’ and this one certainly proved the truth of that.

We are now busily collecting quotations from glaziers as well as discovering that broken glass gets absolutely everywhere. Glass is like liquid – it spreads far beyond its landing place, to be discovered at later intervals in unexpected places.

It seems that every time we think we have finished clearing up we turn around and spot more – it’s worse than pine needles at Christmas!