The air is calm again and the end of the summer has gone back to its familiar stillness, warmth and stickiness. Gamede has moved on, after its very bad- mannered and bad-tempered visit, leaving us all with extra chores and breakages. (That reminds me? Why is a cyclone like an ex-wife? ? Because she blows for a while, with hot, wet passion and when she leaves ? she takes the house with her!)

It was our first significant cyclone, since returning to Mauritius, but it was hardly the stuff of legends. I suspect that, for my wife Jenny, it was something of a disappointment, because her memories, and her family memories, of childhood cyclones in Mauritius have a drama and excitement that build up with every telling of the tale.

The older members of her family reminisce nostalgically about cyclone Carol when all the family and some neighbours were gathered together under one roof, as the worst of the weather crossed the island. There is a roll-call of names half-remembered and children listed, some of whom are now parents themselves and living thousands of miles away.

For the sake of the story, they are permanently arrested as six or eight-year olds being guided by their aunts and uncles. There is usually some dispute over the exact menu in this refuge in the storm. Was it curry poule or poisson? Who made the achard and faratas? Who brought the mangoes and bananas? Why were they so much bigger and juicier than anything available on the market today? During the hours of waiting there were games and amusements of lotto and dominoes. The men were drinking rum and there was obviously a spirit of togetherness and camaraderie, which has lasted 47 years in the imagination.

Unfortunately, they chose to gather under the wrong roof. In the days of wooden construction, a strong cyclone could get underneath the roof and lift it clear away from the house altogether. This is what happened on that day, with surprisingly no damage to life or limb. The wooden doors and windows were all on the move as the wind was howling outside. It was collectively decided that the house was no longer safe and they must all make their way to a friendly neighbour, over the road.

<B>Closeness in adversity</B>

There then followed a manoeuvre, which has been analysed and re-analysed with more passionate review than a Manchester United goal in the Champions League final. All 21 (or 17 or 33) people formed a human turtle to cross the road in the full blast of the 256kph (or 290 or 300) winds, which took 45 minutes (or two hours or six weeks). Some wrapped themselves in blankets to reduce the wind-drag as they huddled together. In their mind?s eye, they are struggling even now, as they hold each other to the ground and hang on desperately to four-year old Anne Marie to stop her from being lifted up and sent sailing over the tree tops.

Cyclones obviously brought a ?closeness in adversity? when the risks were very real and the houses very flimsy by comparison with our revised concrete construction. The risks were very real as ?Carol? took at least forty lives. There was a very strong communal spirit, which crossed boundaries and produced a feeling of caring for each other.

The act of re-telling the tale also has a very real cathartic and therapeutic value for all those that were involved. Important family occasions such as Christmas 1971 are difficult to distinguish from Christmas 1970 or 1972 but a cyclone is a clearly distinguished event. Individuals have their own particular experience and memory, even if it does not quite match the remembered experiences of the others who were there at the time.

This time I almost felt envious as we put up the shutters, got out the candles and gas lamps and insisted that the children caught up with their homework. Gamede did not have the decency to arrive during the week so I could not even claim a day off work. There were, however, many concerned phone calls between family and friends during the crisis period to ensure that everybody that we care for was alright. After the event and considering the huge piles of trees and debris on the road, everything has seemed to get back to normal very quickly and the clean-up was done with staggering efficiency. Emergency services were visible and active.

This compares with our experiences in England when a small fall of snow can paralyse the country. Officials in the UK used to give reasons for the problems they were experiencing... Well, it was unexpected? But it is the second week in February when snow is not unheard of? ?Well, it was the wrong kind of snow?? What would the right kind of snow look like??

<B>Blown in the storm</B>

On Thursday, after the storm, my daughter Juliette, found a little orphan outside the back door. He was a beautiful little bird, marked in a black and white fish-scale pattern on the breast and a rouge tail and head. His behaviour was very odd because when we approached him he stood rooted to the spot and stared straight at us. When we looked him up in the bird book we found that he was quite a rare Madagascan visitor, almost certainly, blown over to us in the storm. It was called a Scaly Stone Roller so the family christened him Mick Jagger.

These little birds are famous for responding to threat by standing stock still. Perhaps they expect to be mistaken for a fish. It doesn?t seem to me to be a very clever adaptation; even though they are not big enough to eat it may still account for their increasing rarity. Unfortunately, even Mick Jagger has left us now, presumably to go and roll a few more stones well away from Engelbert our dog.

The still weather has now hatched a new generation of mosquitoes to contend with. The Jerret household has now found a new form of leisure activity. We all sit around a mosquito coil and indulge in the most expensive luxury we can think of ? We all share a tomato.

<B>Jules JERRET</B>