Lets talk about rain. You know that kind of rain where you think..hmmm…where’s my bible, I need to read that bit about Noah.
Now it’s not like I’m not used to this since I live in England but if you’ve been watching the news then you will see that there have been some horrendous floods on our island where pretty little northern villages have nearly disappeared and folks have had to be shipped out to a pub somewhere else. It’s raining so much that I’m wondering if the North Sea and The Atlantic may meet and flow down to the English Channel and we will be no more.
Incessant, relentless, pounding. Yes, I’m still talking about the rain. Accompanied with a fierce, north easterly wind that made it rain sideways last night.
Did I mention living on a hill? Well I do. Across the plains on flatland where every other road off runs downwards. Sensible. History will always tell you that living on a hill puts you in the best position from the enemy. But not rain, no. Rain is a cunning evil.
First of all my porch flooded. Even though I reside up high. I think the seal on the door gave up the ghost. OK, well, that will dry out, one day, when we have sunshine, I thought. Maybe some time in July. Then I heard a dreadful kind of whooshing and splattering noise from the back. The guttering was overflowing with water spilling out in bucket loads onto the patio and making a free swimming pool. OK, well just don’t go outside, I thought. No problem, it’s raining and it’s dark.
So, suffice it to say things were a bit wet but, ya know, it’s dry inside.
But then it started raining in my bedroom. Not just in my bedroom but on my bed. Yep. Drip, drip, drip came the raindrops from the cupboards above my pillow. Incidentally, a special space tested, memory foam pillow with bounce back technology that cost more than my best handbag. I have an issue with pillows but that’s another story – a bit like The Princess and the Pea.
I opened the cupboards above my bed. That was a colossal mistake as I got a free cold shower when it gushed out. All over me and the bed. Nice. Plus everything inside my cupboard was soaking. I found a half drunk cup of tea nearby and held it under some of the drips whilst I underwent that frozen panic of “Oh what to do” where your sensible, practical brain turns into putty and even counting to 5 is difficult. I thought about crying, I really did but then I’d only have to go and find another cup. I began to count the raindrops as they fell into the mug to gain focus and clarity. But focus and clarity aren’t as good as buckets and towels.
Sometime later after many cloths, Marks and Spencer’s fluffy bath sheets and other odd receptacles, I’d got a bit of control. Until rain found a different exit. At this point, me and rain were on worse terms than enemies.
I decided, and I have to say at the time I thought this was a genius idea, to get my umbrella. Opening an umbrella inside is considered bad luck but I figured that ship had already sailed along with the pairing of Gods’ creatures. I hung my umbrella upside down on one of the cupboard knobs so it could catch the drips. Turns out, umbrellas aren’t as waterproof as you might think. There’s a niche in the market.
Moving the bed was essential. A heavy framed bed, headboard and mattress. Have you ever tried to pull a lorry?
Sometime later after a twisted shoulder and I’m almost certain, a broken wrist, it moved a few inches before one side of the base came away from one of the posts. Clearly, the numpty’s at John Lewis who put this frame up, forgot to tighten the screws on that side and it collapsed. Of course, said screws need a specific Allen key which is….God knows where. I think and hope with all my might that the delivery men and assemblers woke from their sleep with their ears on fire after my new names for them. If not, they are going to get earache today.
Moving the bed has resulted in me not being able to open my drawers at the other end where my clothes live. It doesn’t matter because I have black bin liners under my sink which is the most sensible thing to be donning in this country at the moment.
I am deprived of sleep to the point of torture and now have to find a roofer who isn’t going to rip me off and doesn’t mind being up high in gusty wind and monsoons.
God help any buffoon who comes out with that repeated, non sensical, English comment in summertime, “I’m glad it’s raining, the garden needs it.”
Happy New Year.