Imagine my relief when the news report finally made it clear, after much wretched hyperbole, that no-one had died. Or been injured. Or even got too wet.
In reality, people living in a village in an area where, historically it has always been a watery swamp, have, for reasons no-one can understand, been flooded out after 30-days of constant rain. A mystery to everyone! And because of this we are treated to a daily diet of images of biddies in boats and former townies, wearing farmer-chic clothing, moaning about the lack of Government response to their plight. And as much as I'm happy to jump on the bandwagon of mocking an uncaring, cold-blooded, Tory Minister, specially bussed into the area to show Cameron's caring side, I'm not exactly sure what ANYONE can do for a village at the bottom of the world when a hundred years worth of rain falls overnight!
And when not showing us the bloody Somerset Levels, TV shows and re-shows the sea front at Aberystwyth being battered by high tides, and throwing sand and shingle all over the promenade. But why? The only people put out by Neptune's attempt to reclaim this almost-impossible-to-spell town are Taffs and tons and tons of students. So, who gives a damn?
Particularly when these stories are compared to the continued wallowing misery of the Poppies being unable to get many games played since Christmas. How can losing all your possessions, and suffering thousands of Pounds worth of damage to your house possibly compare with us not being able to moan at a bit of kick and rush football, played at an out-of-town, uneven, paddy-field?
The Somerset Levels, or rather, Burrowbridge on Sea, don't know the meaning of suffering!
|The Latimer Park groundsman battles valiantly to |
ensure the pitch is marked out for Saturday