Floods!

OK, it’s not much to do with creative writing, except it did remind me of the bit in The Rainbow, when Tom Branwen gets swept to his death on his way back from the pub. The roaring in the ears, water sluicing from the hills in biblical proportions. The Upper Tay valley has been a pretty exciting place for the last twenty-four hours. The Loch has extended several miles downstream, hurried along by a ferocious tailwind. So we now have white horses frisking just below the last brave flags on the golf course. A man held a trophy of two cricket balls washed from the genteel hut and floated off onto our new loch where kayakers are frollicking.

Now I’m off to build an ark…