An English Flood

Well England lived up to its reputation. We arrived in the driving rain and just to make sure, what ensued was the worst floods in half a century. There was lots of flood damage (not sure whether it made it to New Zealand news). At the bottom of my Auntie and Uncles' garden, the Thames river had flowed over into the fields lining the river and up into the bottom of the garden.

In Oxford where we caught up with friend Sarah Puttick, we took diversions to get to her house and saw streets with flooded basements, submerged allotments and a very swollen muddy Thames. Floods of this size hadn't happened for decades (in living memory) until 2007 and now have happened a couple of times since.

Venturing into Oxford with Sarah and Daisy

Gwilym and Daisy play house

My Auntie made us lovely food (wonderful english food – a stew, roast ham and pork, veges and puddings) and the boys loved watching Sky kids TV while the weather did its thing. We caught up with Rory's cousin and his wife and son who came up from London to see us.

On the final morning the sun came out. We enjoyed a happy morning with the boys playing in the garden, heaps of green space, some toys, mud and water – a small boys paradise.

I went for a lovely run – loving the morning light, the english countryside, the colours of the rising winter sun. I returned to find Rory helping fix the garden shed roof with my Uncle and the boys happily playing with mud, water and toys.

My Auntie and Uncles beautiful house

The private road that leads to the bottom of the garden flooded completely and
I loved the morning light coming through the arch of trees

Flooding into the bottom of the garden

Gwilym can't resist the temptation for water play

The Thames overflowed its banks engulfing this boathouse beside it :
 this view is from the bridge over the Thames which is just down
the road from the house.

Seemingly out of the blue, what had been a happy morning, took an unexpected turn. The boys broke an unwritten rule while playing and Silas had got wet feet from wading too far into the muddy puddle at the bottom of the garden, despite warnings from both parents. The response that ensued meant that the swollen emotional river in my head from a week of trying to keep two small boys in line (and mostly house-bound during a week dominated by the worst rain in 50 years) ,attempting to make sure two small boys were polite, well-mannered, quiet, not aggressive, were easily entertained, sat nicely at the table, counted to 20 with ease, trying to please, trying to make sure everything went right – burst its banks and spilled out of my mouth at my Auntie. I have been in a blind rage only a few times in my life. I remember them all quite clearly. Usually enough water has fallen over a long enough time to explain the dramatic flood that ensued. Of course you always wonder if you have gone mad. Emotionally, I am just very tired.

We left and mostly I just remember being very very sad. The flight home went well and we bustled two small boys into bed, ourselves following minutes later. I am hoping that the 'water' recedes and I can return to some sense of normality.

Unsurprisingly, I am starting to long for home. For our garden, for our toys. For Grandparents who think their Grand-kids are the best thing in the world. To simply be at home. Today it is 2 weeks til we leave. I have already checked the itinery and am starting to visualise the journey. The packing has already started in my head.