Tuesday, 1 May 2012

the Day That The Rains Came Down

... Oh boy!  I don't remember    this,   although I was alive and somewhere in my DNA I 'feel' my parents humming along... leave it playing while you read the rest of this...



Yesterday was the first whole day of no rain for more than a week but it wasn't meant to last.  Just after midnight we were awoken by the flash of lightening illuminating the bedroom.  The dog has a real thing about thunder and immediately he was on his feet and starting to whine a bit.  The thunder took its time to come but as the rumbles approached, Fergus starting barking really loud and dashing around the room scratching his feet threateningly on the carpet!  If we hadn't been so tired it might have been funny.

The wind howled and we could feel the pressure against the windows as the rain lashed down.  within minutes the entire household was aroused and downstairs trying to make ourselves heard above the crash of torrential rain on the conservatory roof.


Where was the cat?  Wooster was not at home, we opened the door and called and called, probably barely heard above the noise of the storm - and the workshop roofing was now flapping about dangerously.  What's that old adage about a stitch in time?  Well we had hoped to slip away without repairing the workshop roof, the materials are all there in the shed waiting, but time flies and no one found the time so far to do anything about it.  Ah well, I guess we shall have to do it this weekend - provided the rain stops.

Wooster stayed out all night, I expect he was somewhere safe and dry, under a car perhaps but being a cat I am also sure that he managed to sleep wherever he was.  Unlike the rest of us.  Sleep once chased away so violently does not return so easily and everyone got up this morning bleary eyed, complaining and bemoaning a dreadful night.  The cat returned in the morning as predicted, bone dry.

O sleep! O gentle sleep!
Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush’d with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,
Than in the perfum’d chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,
And lull’d with sound of sweetest melody?
2 Henry IV (3.1.7-16)

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