So, we’re due to be talking about the Welsh rain, are we not? And the flooding.
Oh, the flooding.
My house is perched on the edge of a small valley, meaning that when precipitation occurs the water on our side of the watershed in the general catchment area works as groundflow and makes its way down the V-shaped valley. However, our house blocks the water’s movement and therefore increases the lag time. (Sorry, I’m working a little Geography revision into here).
In plain English: things get very, very wet.
When I was younger, I remember coming back from the theatre to be faced with a flood. My family and I had been to see Peter Pan. (I cannot whine enough about that performance. Let’s just say it should have been renamed “SMEE!!!” as the whole thing seemed to be an awful stand-up comedy routine run by the most minor and woefully unfunny of characters - Smee, Captain hook’s right-hand man). So, following Neverland tradition, I was gleefully wielding a foam sword, hacking at my sister in the car.
As we arrived home, we were confronted with a terrible sight – water.
Lots and lots of water.
We battled through the flood to the front door, my mother demanding that we got changed as soon as we got inside into the dry. As soon as we reached the warm haven of the house, however, I glanced back at the scene behind me only to see my precious foam sword floating away with the current.
This is a point where I really should interject, and inform you of the percentage of sewage and various other waste products that are in flood water. However, as I am proud to say that I do not know the figure off the top of my head (if I did it would be disturbing – it’s bad enough that I know Cow Green Reservoir on the River Tees can hold up to 40.9 million m² of water – yes, Geography revision again) and do not trust Wikipedia’s rendition, which will no doubt be “it’s all shit!”, I must at least say this: you don’t want to go wading into it.
So, to cut the anecdote short, I’ll paint the final image: Me, practically diving into the flood. At waist-height. In my best theatre-worthy clothes. For a foam sword.
Needless to say, my mother was not amused.
YOU ARE READING
The Short Memoirs of a Totally Random and Even More Useless British Teenager
HumorHEY, YOU!! Yeah, you! Have you ever wanted to see "SMEE!!!" the musical? Be chased by a Hellhorse? Out-maths a P.E. teacher? Say "hello potato ice cream" in Welsh? Well, neither did I - but here's how it all happened anyway. #memoirmonth
