It’s not every day you step outside your front door and find the street has turned into a river…
We’d been warned. We knew it could happen. By late afternoon we knew it would happen. And we knew – roughly – when was likely to happen.
What you can’t ever know is how quickly it all starts to happen. One minute you’re thinking about perhaps unplugging the telly and moving it upstairs, the next you’re dashing about taping up your front door and your elderly neighbour’s air-bricks and frantically moving everything you can as high as you can, using any and every possible vantage point…
Then, all you can do is go upstairs and watch and wait…
… and hope, of course, that the waters don’t rise any higher. And thankfully – for us – they didn’t. Although we were surrounded, front and back, by a couple of inches it didn’t quite reach the height of the front or back doors. We stayed dry. Many didn’t. And having come so very close I can only extend my heartfelt sympathy to those unfortunate few who found their defences breached.
Floods happen and on the grand, global scale of things this was relatively minor. Heck, at times as the sun rose over the park this morning it even looked pretty:
Thankfully, now, the threat has subsided and normal service is slowly being resumed. Teams of volunteers and council workers are clearing up and householders are doing their best to restore a semblance of normality to their lives as they return home.
I’ve only ever seen picture of floods and flooded houses, factories and shops on TV news reports before. When it happens to you and – literally – on your doorstep things look very, very different.
We were lucky.
But many weren’t.
And as you watch the news, think of being them.
I nearly was.