Thirty-six hours of torrential rain and stormy winds. The noise….during the early hours I gave up on sleep, it sounded like anything that might have been fixed to this sodden earth was flying all over the place, banging into everything it its path. I got up; it was cold, I couldn’t see much out of the windows. Sleep, when it came again was restless and half-hearted.
Roads today had turned into dirty fast flowing waterways. The drains could not cope with the incessant and relentless deluge. It was impossible to tell if some large lakes were where they should be, or, whether they were new additions. It looked like some sheep were paddling in generous pools in a few fields where grass was visible between the water.
Villagers were re-siting sandbags as a nearby river rose; someone was checking a drain. A woman, kitted up in wet weather gear, stood on a bridge taking pictures of a field that had disappeared under water. The top of an ancient standing stone was the only visible place identifier.
The main river is tidal. When the high tide passed, when the rain lessened and the winds reduced, a lot of the surface road water subsided. The ground is totally saturated, and with the over-topping of rivers it remained impossible to distinguish where the riversides were.