It’s been an eventful Saturday to say the least. First, we wake up to find that the toilet is not-quite-blocked. Then I accidentally let the dog loose on the road, and finally, we nearly get stuck in a flash flood.
You don’t realise how lucky you are in the UK until something stops working, be that your water supply, electricity, or road network. This morning we realised we had a problem with our plumbing. Our toilet was still functional, but something was not quite right. We needed to go into town to buy a plunger.
I took Holly out while My Taller Half got breakfast. It had been raining all night, so we just went to the local field to have a run around. There were some roadworks nearby that Holly was very interested in and before I realised what had happened, she was running off down the road to investigate. Recall had gone out the window, and I am very grateful that the car she ran in front of contained an observant driver. Holly thought it was a great adventure. I was in a mild state of shock.
That drama over, we were off to Crook. The A689 isn’t exactly level, and there are a few places that tend to collect surface water, but the drive into town was rather fun. There was a convoy of cars in front, so we knew the water was safe enough to drive through. Most of the water was on our side of the road, so we were confident of a safe and easier drive back.
Twenty minutes later on our return from Crook we realised we’d made a big mistake. The rain was no worse than before, but water was streaming down from the hills. There was now more water than road, with each flooded section deeper and longer than the last. Twice I thought we weren’t going to make it.
But make it we did. Other drivers must have been caught out after us, the water was rising so fast.
So that’s three near misses. Near misses come in threes, right. Don’t they?