Like most people, I’m fed up with the endless rain and floods now. I’m actually one of the luckier ones. Admittedly I’ve been forced into making numerous time-consuming detours to avoid flooded lanes and roads blocked by fallen trees. I’ve also suffered two burst tyres on my car within a 24-hour period, after driving into jagged potholes that had cleverly disguised themselves as harmless puddles. Then, a week ago, I was forced to paddle to my car after an overflowing pond turned the office carpark into a raging torrent.
But at least my house, despite its leaky roof, hasn’t been flooded (yet), and I don’t stare out of the window every morning watching my livelihood being washed down the drain, as so many farmers whose crops and pastures are still submerged are forced to do.
Yet, as I said to a few of the pub’s regulars as we sheltered from the latest storm – by candlelight thanks to another power cut – last Friday night, we’re all in this together.
We certainly were 10 minutes later when the landlord called us all outside to help rescue his smokers’ shelter – a normally robust, heavy-duty gazebo-cum-tent structure that was threatening to take off for the next village.
Next day I was running errands for a farmer who had no ‘leccy’ after power lines came down and left 7,000 homes in the dark. With 11 day-old rare breed piglets shivering in a barn, or snuggling up his wife’s pullover, I was sent for petrol to fuel a borrowed generator needed to power-up the heat lamps.
Funnily enough, none of us were impressed by the sight of politicians of all colours standing in puddles on the TV news when the power finally came back on. Anyone trying to make political gain from a crisis round here can make like the piglets and stuff it up their jumper.