These are scary times for those of us who cannot swim, or
indeed float. Luckily for me though, I live in a third floor flat on the bank
of the Thames. I'm safe in the knowledge that if my feet get wet, we're
probably in the midst of water-based apocalypse. I would have to resort to
thumbing for a lift from any passing arks.
Two years ago we were in the middle of a roasting spring,
with the threat of draught hanging over our parched heads. In a bid to overcome
the hosepipe ban, my Grandad constructed a series of aqueducts with drainpipes.
Plastic pipes are suspended across the garden, feeding from the roof into his
fish pond and water butts. It doesn't seem to have stopped raining since.
