How was Storm Ciaran for you? I write this column with no internet, which gives you an inkling of how it went here.

You’d think we’d be getting used to it by now, what with named storms popping in regularly like distant relatives on a grand tour. But Ciaran certainly seemed to set the cat among the pigeons.

I woke with a start in the middle of the night, realising I hadn’t brought in or lashed down some rabbit paraphernalia – run, mini-second hutch (we spoil our bunnies).

In the past, the main hutch was upended twice in storms like Ciaran, and the only thing that stopped our pets escaping was blind fear of the conditions outside.

All sounded calm, and I wondered if I should chuck on some clothes and go out, even at 3am. “It’ll be fine,” muttered the Other Half from under the duvet. I regretted listening to him two hours later when the wind picked up, and I imagined the hutch crashing through the conservatory windows.

Thankfully, this did not come to pass. I was hauled out of bed by Daughter, though, to close a few windows which were causing her bedroom door to bang. She grinned at me, finding it all rather exciting.

The big question was, would Daughter have to go into school for 8.30am? A few schools had closed, or resolved to open from 10.30am. Hers remained confident that it would be business as usual with all bus services running, but advised parents to check a number of outlets come the morning.

Come 6.30am, I was scanning communication apps and social media in the hope of clarification before having to haul a teenager out of bed. This did not come.

Meanwhile, local news bulletins were advertising how many schools were closed, and that the advice was not to travel unless absolutely necessary. Daughter howled with rage into her Weetabix.

Outside, the rain lashed and the wind shook the leaves off the trees. It was hardly walking weather, but was it really safe to drive? This was an amber warning, meaning “potential danger to life”.

While a friend said she was waiting it out and delivering her daughter late, I bundled mine into a car with 10 minutes to spare, then risked life and limb to get her to school on time. En route, a schoolfriend was seen trudging up the hill because her buses had been cancelled; she was grateful for a lift in the warm and dry.

Once home, I had a sweep of social media and found that other parents felt the same. Some had been left without transport to primary schools, and faced a half-hour walk in treacherous conditions with a number of small children.

The nature of the education system, with academies taking individual decisions, meant advice varied from school to school. Some declared conditions unsafe and closed, while others within striking distance were determined to tough it out.

Parents were often left with the uncomfortable responsibility of deciding whether to keep children at home in the interests of health and safety, in the knowledge that school was open. Many chose, unapologetically, to stay put.

Later that day, I snuck up the road to take pictures of a beautiful tree that had been brought down during the night – one of 400 incidents reported to Cornwall Council - blocking a major route into the city and very close to a primary school. The prospect of it falling during the day, particularly during peak times such as the school and commuter run, brings a shiver to the spine.

It’s another reason why, on occasions like this, a blanket decision made by a higher authority (such as a council or government department) would be advisable – that in the instance of an amber warning, all schools will close, at least until the worst of the weather has passed.