November 29, 2011
I always tend to shake my head when I see that the Met Office has one of its severe weather warnings out for ‘heavy rain’ – I mean, it’s not as if we’re unused to rain around here. But today dawned miserable, with rain sheeting across the valley and only got worse from there, and by lunchtime we weren’t so much worrying about the level of the water at the ford, but the level of the water in the front yard as the drain struggled to keep up with the flow:
But I knew I had responsibilities to the blog and so, once the weather had gone from utterly grim back to just plain wet, I set out along the road
hoping my wellies would not get overwhelmed…
… and being careful not to step on the fish (haven’t we been here before?).
The first view of the ford looked extremely promising (the sign was still there, by the way):
But it’s a bit hard to know exactly how high it actually was because it was piling up behind the bridge and I wasn’t about to cross the ford to see what it read from the other side. On the whole, I’m inclined to think that’s joint equal with the previous high score, although I’ve not noticed it coming over the footbridge before.
Astoundingly, just after I took that photo a car came along – one of those shiny 4×4 jobs – and looked for a while as if it was going to tackle the crossing. There was a part of me that was hoping they would – because oh what a blog that would be – but in the end, discretion proved the better part of valour and they turned around and went away.
No such risk taking from the cat, which was taking no chances.
November 28, 2011
We open our bathroom window in the mornings to try and cut down the amount of condensation we get from the shower. The cat has worked out that this is a handy way of getting into the house which is why after a wettish day like today when she spent all day clambering through the window, curling up on a chair for a while to recuperate, jumping onto the kitchen counters, getting thrown out, hunting voles for a while, and then clambering back through the window to reappear in the sitting room with an ‘and your point is?’ expression on her face, our window now looks like this.
We’d put a little cat doormat out for her if we could fit it onto the window ledge. As it is, she seems to have sorted herself out.
November 25, 2011
Well, the BBC Terror Centre, as Huttonian (who is back blogging again, go and say hello, he needs cheering up) likes to call it, has been busy these last two days warning us of hurricane strength winds, although in the end delivering a not-quite-hurricane-strength but still-pretty-bloody-stiffish south-westerly. I’m not complaining, mind: it was stiffish enough that I spent most of the ride down to the papershop today giving the indifferent sheep my mime-artist style ‘cyclist attempting not to go backwards even on the downhill stretches’.
On the plus side, this did mean I sailed home on a tailwind – at least until I made the turn out of Nearest Village and into our road and got hit by a gust of crosswind that not only sent me sideways across the road but also gave me the uneasy feeling of my wheels skittering out from under me in the teeth of the blast.
I stayed rubber side down this time, but clearly I’m going to need to take on more ballast for the ride. More cake, maybe?
November 23, 2011
Outside the walled garden there is a toolshed and a handy lean to, suitable for sheltering such things as wheelbarrows and gardeners who forgot to keep a weather eye out before going up for a spot of digging and delving…
… It looks solid enough until you happen to try leaning against one of the posts and find that on closer inspection they mostly don’t actually reach the ground…
… I have long considered that along with compression, tension, stress and strain there is another crucial engineering force to be considered: habit…
… and that it’s possibly all that’s keeping most of the buildings around here still standing
(sign is still there, by the way)
November 22, 2011
It turns out we do the council an injustice – not only did the depot rouse itself sufficiently that by Saturday morning it had produced a personalised ‘Nearest Village ford closed to pedestrians’ sign, but when we went down to inspect matters today, we found that the trees had been removed and the bridge once more was passable
If the river ever gets really high, we might struggle to work out just how high – but then again, if it ever gets high enough for that to be a problem, I suspect we’ll have more pressing things to worry about, like sourcing gopherwood.
The ‘ford closed to pedestrians’ sign is still there, though whether through an over-zealous approach to health and safety due to the damaged handrail or because someone forgot to pick it up again, I don’t know. As the countryside is more or less randomly littered with ‘flood’ signs left over (washed up, even) from various flooding events in the past, I suspect the latter. Anyone care to bet how long it’ll be before someone comes and takes it away?
November 21, 2011
We’ve been in Duns, freak weather capital of the UK (currently mild, sunny and pleasant – I told you it was odd) and the other half popped down to the Co-op to pick up a few things for lunch. With just three things in his basket, he headed for the tobacco kiosk to pay and realised that a sweet little old lady had plotted an interception course on the same destination with her laden trolley. Being a gent, rather than speeding up and nipping in front of her, he gestured to her to offer her first spot in the queue.
‘Oh no that’s all right, you go first,’ she said sweetly. ‘I’ll just come and beat you up later.’
As the other half was looking remarkably unscathed as he told this story I asked him how he got away.
‘Oh I waited until I’d paid for my shopping,’ he said. ‘And then said I’d see her outside. But I legged it before she’d finished paying.’
I think on the whole, that was sensible. Those Duns little old ladies pack a serious punch.
Back to inspect the ford tomorrow.
November 18, 2011
We weren’t expecting much to report in our most recent visit to check the level of the ford – after all we’ve had four (count ’em!) dry days in a row, followed by a morning of merely mizzling rain, which is as nothing round here. But when we rounded the corner we were confronted with this:
That’s going to make checking the depth a bugger, if nothing else.
Naturally, the first thing I did (after walking back to get my camera, and then cycling back to the ford to take some pictures – priorities, people) was to phone the council where, after I had finally got through to the roads department (don’t you just love it when organisations decide to switch to once central number for contacting them, whatever the purpose of your call and then the call centre you reach has absolutely no idea what do when you finally get to them) – at about 3pm – I was told ‘well, obviously it’s Friday afternoon so the depot’s closed but we’ll do what we can.’
I’m still not entirely sure what’s so obvious about that, frankly.