Earthquake!

1am this morning. Nikki wakes me up shouting "John! What's that!?"

Post-hoc, I've read all these stories about people being scared, not knowing what it was, walking out into the street in their nightclothes and staring at the sky (the SKY????) etc etc. Me? I stare blearily at the headboard of the bed, moving rapidly backwards and forwards, listen to the VERY LOUD rumbling all through the house, turn around and watch the wardrobes - all three of them - rocking heartily from side to side and creaking fit to bust, and I mumble: "huh? It's an earthquake," turn over, and go instantly back to sleep.

I'm not easily impressed. At least, not when I'm asleep. In retrospect I wish I'd been awake for the whole thing, given that it only happens (at least, that big) once every 25 years or so.