Storm Isha, Storm Jocelyn... and the endless distraction of fallen trees

This week, poet and artist Frieda Hughes reflects on wind damage to her London home – and the way in which the weather can take us away from our normal lives with its own tumultuous urgency

‘The trees were thrashing themselves with their own branches, doing penance’ (REUTERS)

After the Portimao racetrack I rode the Estoril circuit, where Ian Hutchinson

Crashed at the end of the start-finish straight at 180 miles an hour;

He walked away from motorcycle wreckage they could fit into a handbag.