More rain on the righteous

A shock early this morning.

You may, like the people of the East Midlands, have received a welcome but rather heavy dose of rain over the last twenty four hours. This blessing has been poured out upon my manse without stint.

But it was this morning that I woke from a dream in which I was Noah, ferrying my little Ark of holy people through the floods of modern life. And discovered that I was indeed flooding.

Emergency calls to the local plumber and jobbing builder and we have discovered the truth. My predecessor, Mr Syston Whyte-Plumb, appears to have left with all the lead flashing off the manse roof. In the sunny days this went undetected - and I daresay no-one bothered to check when he left. But how truly it is said that it is not sunny days that test our character, but rainy ones.

My bedding, bed and all the clothes in the bedroom are now all soaked, as are the carpet and the ceilings. In a manner that reminds me of the Beaker Folk of Husborne Crawley, my former spiritual refuge that I don't talk about, I am now taking refuge in the shed, while the workmen do emergency work or - to use their technical term - "bodge it".