The twelve days of Christmas 11: Rain

The weather outside is frightful. Genuinely, truly, dismally frightful – if you spend more than five minutes out of the house, you’ll be soaked down to the ankles and muddy up to the waist. We’re faring better here than a lot of places are, but the fields are waterlogged and small lakes are creeping menacingly across the roads.

Driving back from work today through the growing puddles, I couldn’t help worrying that it would just carry on and on until the rolling hills of Herefordshire become islands within the new Three Counties Archipelago. More importantly*, the ongoing drizzle and downpours are hardly conducive to writing Christmassy missives to the masses. Let’s face it, if I’m going to (extremely loosely) base a series of blog posts on a biblical story, the Nativity is no longer appropriate; we’ve moved on to the Flood.

I’ve got a trick up my sleeve, though. My job (aside from being a barmaid) is currently that of Assistant Carpenter at Hollow Ash Huts. Admittedly, I mainly do the painting and decorating, but I reckon I’m handy enough at woodwork that I could, if it really came down to it, build myself an Ark.

*I am aware that this is not actually more important than the potential doom of humanity.

Scan 45

I saw one bloody great ship full of animals go sailing by… 


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