As we were seated cosily in the staffroom at the end of the school day, a black cloud, darker than any I had seen before, swept furiously across a deepening sky. The air was suddenly filled with leaves whipped from the trees in the playground and the people in the room became oddly silent. The windows rattled and the doors settled themselves further into their frames with an eerie creak. 'It is snowing in Strood' said a single voice and we all rose from our chairs in readiness to leave.

The weather had created something akin to a scene from 'The Wizard of Oz', I expected Margaret Hamilton to breeze past the window on her broomstick, cackling wildly as the building lifted from its foundations. She didn't. We all climbed into our respective cars and made our way home.