Here's the BBC.
The wind's picking up now, late Saturday. The white clouds, orange in the streetlights, are racing across the sky, in a southerly direction. Work has stopped on the apartment block over the way, but the workers are still in their tin accommodation. We've cleared the balcony of everything except the big planter which once had mint, but now has a solitary borage plant: it can handle a typhoon. Car alarms keep going off.