We had quite a bit of rain overnight but not the storms that were forecast, although I think the south of England is going to get quite a battering today. Living on a hill means that we should be the last to get flooded and it will give me time to lash the dining table and the sideboard together so we have a fighting chance of floating away in comfort, and we can fill the drawers of the sideboard with provisions for the journey.
That's the plan for survival sorted then for the great flood, and I'm sure as we sail away we will see many marine creatures taking up the new opportunities that a flooded UK brings, and I don't care in the least if a band of musical seals wants to live on the roof of my garage.
I mention musical seals because last night as I sat in the pub with Mrs B and the dogchildren, it became apparent that Dean, with his soft southerner upbringing, did not know that seals were excellent musicians, especially designed through evolution to play small drums and the tambourine. It's the little sharp claws on the end of the lovely curved flippers makes the right angle for the noise to be pitch perfect. Anyway, Dean now knows and I'm sure this information will come in handy as he and Niki live on the river and it might help them be less startled if a passing seal band strike up near their mooring one day.
A question, how many national daily newspapers managed to cover the Daniel Radcliffe story without using the words Harry PotHead?
On this day in 1904, Harold Larwood was born, one of this areas most famous sons, Larwood was a fine cricketer and will be forever linked with the Bodyline Ashes Series in the 1930's.
Larwood was born in Nuncargate, which is just up the road from our house on the hill, although the name Nuncargate is one that Mrs B has trouble remembering and in fact we now refer to that small village with its excellent butchers shop as Carbuncle.
Not in any way to disparage the beauty of the place, it is no hanging gardens of Babylon, but it is functional.
So no funny little nuggets, just a local connection to a sort of famous dead cricketer who lived in a place that Mrs B can't say...
And that's a fact!