As always, I paid little or no interest to the BBC weather casts - I'd admired the whirlpools of isobars, the severe beauty of the weather girl, but I had the TV sound turned off -
We'd gone to Sainsburys in Wareham, marvelling at the staff dressed as elves - the store manager wore a fluffy jumper bedecked with flashing lights -
Whilst we wondering which red grapefruit to buy, the sky darkened - immense clouds hung in the sky like swollen airships - icy rain lashed the supermarket car park - gusts of wind stirred roof tiles - shoppers hid beneath their umbrellas, splashing through brimming puddles - brogues were soaked, rain drops streamed down wax jackets -
Sophie and Tessa were with us in The Old School House by the mid evening - by then, it had been raining for many hours - the wind was now gusting at over 60 miles per hour, driving the rain against the skylights - outside, the valley was a dark swirling void -
Then, slyly, implacably, drops of rain water fell from the ceiling - fingers of damp ran along the plaster - Anne was resolution personified - buckets and trays collected the drops of water - Turkish rugs were rolled back - phone calls made to insurance drones -
The next morning, the rain had stopped, the mad wind had gone - the ceiling was still intact -
The water meadows were flooded - Big Bob told me there was only one train per hour - I stood on the bridge, listening to the swollen river, looking out over a grey flooded world -
I thought of Paul's mum and dad - the Humber had swept into South Ferriby - a tidal surge had inundated half the village - I felt so ashamed of my panic the night before -
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