High, white towers of cauliflower, cumulo-nimbus clouds would build up, form an anvil at the top and then just collapse on themselves, leaving a deep blue void. There was obviously a huge amount of energy up there but down at ground level there was no movement and no sound. The hot, heavy, moisture-laden air sat beneath the sky and it stifled all noise. Even the sound of the nearby motorway was muffled. Birds did not sing and insects did not hum. Every door and window in the house was open.
It was like living under water. Every step was laboured and slow. Even time slowed down and the hours dragged.

As a child I noticed that thunder storms travelled against the wind, but I did not understand why. Now I do.
Meanwhile inside the cloud, heavy moisture-laden air is travelling upwards and cooling at a fantastic rate. Huge rain drops form around dust particles, but the updraft is so strong that they do not fall. They may keep ascending and freeze, thousands of feet above the ground. At some point, the weight of ice outweights the upward force of the vortex and hailstones as big as marbles cascade earthwards. They might fall out of the cloud and smash your green-house, or they might melt on the way down and just fall as big drops of rain.
That is exactly what happened next. Large drops of rain fell about a foot apart and left splat-marks in the dust; and that was that. Storm over. The air was fresh and cool because it had been sucked downwards to replace the warm air that had been sent skywards.
The warm tarmac steamed for an hour afterwards.