On Wetness, Wind, and a Worriesome Coincidence.

Another dark, gloomy, watery day again today. I had to take a detour after I’d parked the car in Sainsbury’s car park because the direct route to the store was interrupted by a large pool of water covering most of the width of the parking area. The river running through the town was in spate to an extent I’ve never seen before, and when I came out of the store at half past one it was dark enough for the exterior lights to be on. When I returned home my first job was to take a spade out to clear the road of large clumps of leaf and other debris which were redirecting the fast-flowing water away from the grids. Full night has long since fallen on the Shire, and now the wind of the earlier storm system has risen again to a constant moan and frequent roar.

And the house has turned cold tonight, which reminds me again of my favourite MR James ghost story, The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral, in which the protagonist, Dr Haynes, is alone in his elderly dwelling through the cold, dark part of the year. He is becoming increasingly beset by the growing sense – sometimes augmented by inexplicable sounds – that some invisible and unfriendly presence is beginning to insinuate itself into his lonely world, intending to do him harm. The tension grows ever stronger, as evidenced by the repeated note in his journal that ‘I must be firm.’

Not something to dwell on when you’re living alone in a cold, elderly house through the dark part of year, is it? But at least I’ve got YouTube in which to take refuge shortly. Better concentrate on some comedy and jolly music, I think. I’ve also got the benefit of knowing that, unlike Dr Haynes, I never murdered anybody. At least I don’t think I did.