I believe it was the wise sages, Busted, who once foretold “Welcome to the year 3000. Not much has changed but we live underwater”. Apart from the fact that it seems like rather a large change to me, it could be that their prophesy may become true in less than the predicted 991 years.
The other day I was thinking that I had been slightly premature with my gloomy statement that summer was over. Jane and I had taken Maggie to Blair Atholl for the Horse Show/Event/thing (I’m sure it has an official name, but Jane isn’t here to ask). The drive through Glen Ferness, around the Cairngorms, to Blair Atholl Castle was glorious: Black, forbidding mountains formed the horizon, but the hills between were carpeted with thick heather and wild grasses which, with the clear sunshine, produced the most vivid purples and golds. With David Bowie’s Hunky Dory on the CD player, it was a perfect day for driving. The next few days were equally fine. The air-con was back on and so were the shades.
Looking out of my window this morning, however, I see that my ‘summer is over’ statement was actually an understatement. It is not just the end of the summer out there; it looks like the end of the world.
When you see television pictures of floods in Britain, it almost looks like fun: People hoisting up their trousers and wading across streets, people finding canoes and making the most of the conditions, firefighters carrying people from their homes and everyone in the pub complaining that they can’t get to work.
In reality, of course, it isn’t fun. It’s great fun! Our house looks out across fields that stretch to Forres, with Cluny Hill and the larger hills of Shougle and Glen Latterach beyond. These fields are perfect for a quick walk with the dogs, with a small burn for Jilly and Doris to paddle in (Daphne, the whippet, is not so keen on water). Yesterday it rained and rained…. And rained some more, continuing right through the night. This has caused the burns to burst and flood the fields. But, they are not just flooded; they are flowing. I am watching large logs and tree branches flow quickly across them and then across the road which connects the east end of the village
Out came the waterproofs and the boots for the first time in months. Daphne wears a coat at such times - she’s a delicate little flower - but even Doris (the terrier) donned one of Daphne’s coats (a bit big for her though, she wasn’t too impressed). I took the dogs down the fields and let them loose. You would have thought they hadn’t been out for years - they loved that they could run and swim so close to their home. Their dog-coats may keep them dry in showers, but they are not a good idea when they want to go swimming. I can’t wait until it is time for their afternoon walk, the water is still rising.
I shouldn’t be so flippant. The floods have been quite serious further east. Local radio regularly updates the diluvial drama (but I have switched it off now because I can’t stand the adverts and Ronan Keating). Even in Fochabers, where I sometimes teach, a bridge has been swept away. Lossiemouth (which has a very sunny microclimate) has suffered 12cm of rain in the last 24hrs and, as a result, I have postponed today’s’ lessons (all in the Elgin/Lossie area). Luckily for me, I can just give myself the day off and work Sunday instead. Others are not so lucky; many have had to evacuate their homes and abandon their cars.
The rain has stopped, for now, but more rain is forecast. Good for the garden, good for the ducks and great fun for the dogs. But Jack would have hated it.
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