A glorious morning. Clear blue sky, the water still, the grass fresh. It was exactly the sort of scene that had convinced them to buy the house.
But the spring colours and sun-kissed fields hid the tumult of the previous night. The storm had raged across the whole country for twenty four hours. The deluge of rain had centred on them.
They had prayed the water level would cease to rise. The river had burst its banks in the early evening. It hadn’t stopped there. It kept rising. It had swamped their garden wall, their flowerbeds and lawn disappearing under the brown waves that crept closer to their back door.
Continue reading at Iain Kelly