Father Noah...

...Though low-lying our neck of The Wolds has escaped serious flood damage these past twenty-four hours. The odd house is soaked and some carpets ruined, but nothing more. There is a river not five miles away, though even the bursting of its banks could not affect us here. We can only pray and be on standby to assist as needed. Some of the farmers have gone off on their tractors lest they might be of any assistance anywhere and the Parish Hall is cleared for sleepers should that be wanted.

Our hearts go out to the dead and to their bereaved. That poor young man trapped in a storm drain with his foot caught fast in a grating as the waters surged over his head. There can be few more frightening deaths than that and one prays for his soul to rest now in peace after the agony of his dying.

Where does this weather come from and what does it presage? One does not have to be too literalist of a biblical scholar - or indeed better plain reader of scripture - to be fearful of more than a freak of nature.