It Never Rains but it Pours...

Weathering Storm Bert

Hello and welcome!

Yesterday was one helluva day. The rain never stopped the entire day, emptying deluges from a blackened sky. My husband and I were driving home on a journey that soon took on an unexpected and sad turn of events.

The weekend had started well. A two-hour drive to visit family, a surprise birthday party, an overnight stay in a boutique hotel, and then back home. What’s not to like? We hadn’t taken the weather forecast, announcing that Storm Bert was headed our way, into account. After all, during the winter months, storm after storm seems to hit, so we set off on Friday full of the joys of Spring.

The surprise birthday party went like a dream and my beautiful daughter was well and truly taken aback. Her pretty face was a picture and the love shown by family and friends who had gathered together to wish her well, shone through. Hats off to her partner for organising it and pulling it off so skilfully, and it all went without a hitch. We left after a couple of hours, leaving the youngsters to enjoy the rest of their day.

After a delicious meal at the boutique hotel, we hit the sack, tired but happy. It’s always satisfying when a plan comes to fruition and the surprise party couldn’t have gone better.

During the night, I heard wind and rain battering the windows, and I fleetingly thought that Bert was making himself well and truly heard. We set off after a hearty breakfast and soon realised that the rain, which was bucketing down from a leaden sky, was relentlessly going to continue throughout the day with no sign of letting up. With our British resolve, we set off home, but soon had to change our route, due to flooding on the road.

Sticking to the major arteries, we carved our way slowly through the English countryside with grit and determination. Along the way, we spotted a petrol (sorry, gas) station, and wisely decided to stock up on water, sandwiches and a hot drink. Purchases paid for, head down, I made my way slowly back to the car, buffeted by the strong wind and soaked by the torrential rain, eventually settling down gratefully into the warmth of the car. I must have looked a fright.

Putting two fingers up at Bert, we set off, safe in the knowledge that at least we had provisions to keep us going if things got tough. And tough they got.

We knew that when we left the main ‘A’ roads which funneled onto the smaller ‘B’ roads, we would have to make a decision. Perhaps seek shelter and safety in a roadside pub. It was on both of our minds that rather than risk the fast-flowing water, which was gushing onto the roads from overloaded gulleys and steep hillsides, emptying their rivers of rain and muddy water further down the valley into our path, we should seek shelter. But, unlike the carpenter and his pregnant wife, we couldn’t even find an Inn, let alone ask for a room.

We drove on in silence, my husband concentrating on the task at hand. To get us home safely. The windscreen wipers were batting back and forth, faster and faster at an almost comical speed. Each lake of brown muddy water which obscured the tarmac ahead of us elicited a long stare, silence, and then a huge sigh of relief once we had driven safely through it, holding our breath as we went.

Concentrating at a busy roundabout, I sat in contemplative silence, hoping that we would be able to continue our journey home, but if we had to find somewhere to stay overnight, then so be it.

The next thing I knew, the Costa coffee flew out of the cup holder on the dashboard and into the air, showering hot coffee everywhere. Simultaneously, a loud bang rang out and we were both thrown forward in our seats.

My husband quickly realised what had happened and, conscious of the fast-moving traffic, he drove slowly down the first exit and pulled over. We had been rear-ended by a van. Needless to say, we were both in shock but had not been seriously injured, as far as we were aware. We are both getting checked out by our GP, to be on the safe side. I feel as though the impact jarred my hip and being sprayed with hot coffee was not the most pleasant of experiences.

I had the presence of mind to take plenty of photographs and the driver who had shunted into my beautiful car apologised profusely and admitted that it was completely his fault. We were stationary, waiting for a gap in the traffic when it happened so, yes, it was his fault.

Both sets of details exchanged, the long, painful and laborious process of getting my car repaired through the insurers begins. My policy allowed for a courtesy car but, as it’s a weekend, needless to say, that has not been without its challenges.

I know it could have been a lot worse. But the thought of filling out all those forms fills me with dread, even though I have already spent over an hour talking to my insurer about the incident, which I reported immediately. But it will have to be done. There is no escape.

The good news is that we eventually arrived home safe and sound, tired but relieved. It’s a shame that I can’t say the same about my trusty car, which kept going through the wind and the rain and eventually, four and a half hours later, got us back home. There are bits out of alignment and damage to her rear end, including a nasty dent. I will have to wait and see what the insurers say about getting her repaired.

In the meantime, I hope you have weathered Storm Bert and kept safe.

Best wishes,