It rained. Now in Port Naain this is not unusual, the prevailing wind seems to bring us storms off the sea, and some think they are channelled by the estuary and thus fall on Port Naain whilst places fifty miles to the north or south seem to bask in sunny weather, cooled deliciously by playful zephyrs.

But this week it did not merely rain, it rained as if endeavouring to prove something to itself. This was rain that was compensating for something.

On the first day it rained with ruthless determination. The night was merely wet as if keeping its hand in but not willing to make too much effort. The second day rained unrelentingly, handing over to night, secure in a job well done. The third day, unwilling to play second fiddle to anybody, rained in great squalls that hurled the water about at speed, making up in viciousness…