Wolds Diary: Shindig helps raise the mood after all the rain

The heavy rain saw York, Tadcaster, Leeds and Pocklington hit by flooding.
The heavy rain saw York, Tadcaster, Leeds and Pocklington hit by flooding.

Rain, rain and yet more rain. I know I’m not alone in being heartily sick of it. It is a national trait to moan about the weather but just at the moment it is understandable. I don’t think anyone is profiting from our current weather, and it is becoming quite risky out and about, especially when walking the dogs because of the mud.

Whatever footwear I use, from wellies to hiking boots, the soles soon get engorged with mud and I slip and slide, and have actually taken to using a stick, just to stay upright. I’m past caring what it looks like and my washing machine has been working overtime.

In my garden everything is sodden and I long for either a hard frost or a spell of dry weather. Mind you, I shouldn’t complain. I have been much more fortunate than those poor folk who have been flooded and lost their belongings or homes. I just wish the Government would stop playing party politics and take the responsibility for the protection of their people.

It is no longer relevant how little was spent in the past, that can be sorted out later. It is what needs to be done now and in the future that is important. Of course, the Royal Engineers should be asked to use their considerable expertise to put a bridge over the river at Tadcaster.

My beloved dog, Looroll, a Doberman/Sharpei cross, doesn’t ‘do’ water. She tries every trick in the book to avoid it, and will not willingly go out walking in it. Even if I put a coat on her, she refuses.

My little terrier, Brillo, doesn’t seem to mind but being so low slung with short legs, I have to de-mud her when we get back from a walk.

I’ve resorted to walking the dogs individually around the town, often late at night, when they don’t get too muddied up. The streams are very high and water churns down them in a brown muddy torrent.

I’m just preparing a new book for the publishers, and it has kept me inside for a lot of the time. My typing is not that good, and being dyslexic means that once I’ve typed a passage, I have to go through it several times checking with the spell checker until it looks about right. A friend has volunteered to proof read it for me, bless her.

I do not normally spend that much time at my desk and have discovered that my office chair is not helping my back, so I ventured forth to find a solution. I had a posture kneeling stool, years ago, but I have no idea what happened to it.

I tried the shops for a replacement but they didn’t have anything like one. Luckily, internet shopping came to the rescue.

The weather may have been gloomy and I may have been somewhat deskbound, but there has been time this week for some fun.

I was invited to a New Year’s supper by the Brandesburton WI. I always leave early and this time it was a good thing I did. I was held up for a good half hour in a traffic jam caused by a serious accident at Tickton.

Despite the drama, I arrived at the Methodist Chapel in time for the get-together, and I was treated to a fantastic meal (it was the WI, after all), which consisted of a meat pie and mushy peas, followed by a yummy chocolate pudding.

I gave my talk and set off home. They were such lovely women, interesting, and I really enjoyed their company. The road at the bottom of my estate was flooded when I set off, but by 10pm when I returned, thankfully, it had dissipated.

That same night Pocklington had a bit of excitement, that we could well have done without. The cash machine at our Co-op store was stolen.

I had only taken some cash out of it myself the previous day and the incident came as a shock.

The next day, I went to sit with my poorly friend for the morning. He has recently had a fall and is almost immobile and not well at all. I was glad to help, and give his wife time to go to the opticians, and get a break for couple of hours.

Too many older people struggle along in silence when their health suffers. It is important to be a good neighbour, particularly in the countryside where people in such circumstances can easily begin to feel terribly isolated.