About a year ago, I was out driving and decided to go up a hill near my home, which has a wide view over London. I go there often, and especially love it when the weather is vibrant and the cloudscape is dramatic, as it was that day.
I was watching patches of light and shade move over the landscape, and enjoying the new spring growth everywhere. Suddenly, I heard these words clearly, as though they had been spoken aloud: “Get off the hill fast.” And then I immediately heard it a second time: “Get off the hill fast.” The command was so clear that I actually replied out loud, “Oh, OK!” and then drove down the hill at a much faster pace than usual—I normally go slowly to enjoy the hedgerows, which are so beautiful at that time of year.
At the bottom of the hill, I was suddenly engulfed in a hailstorm. I pulled off the side of the road into a lay-by and looked back. Above the hill was a jet-black cloud. As I watched, an enormous fork of lightning came right down to the ground exactly where my car had been, accompanied by an huge clap of thunder. The storm had come up behind me while I was looking out over the wide landscape.
