The land drains worked a treat and all the water from behind the house came spurting out and rushing down the hill.
Let's try to take a positive approach here: the hills are a glorious green. The vegetable garden does not need watering, including the new beds in the field which require the humping of heavy watering cans. The onion crop for some reason is the best ever. The hens are all laying, the Welsumer and the Frisian bantam having at long last given up their joint attempt at going broody, much of which involved sitting in the nesting box together, taking turns to sit on each other's head. I am about to go and see my daughter and son in law and my parents, which, as Ian and I are both going, will mean a lot of my favourite people all together. The roof is not leaking (fingers and toes crossed here).
But I do long for meals outside under the yew tree and a warm wind and lying down on the grass and watching the sky. Maybe next week.
I shall try to console myself with the thought that this was a only a couple of days ago.