The 15th August 1952, a night of tragedy for a small close-knit community on the wastes of Exmoor. Still remembered by many as one of the most tragic nights in living memory. Many tales of bravery have been told mixed with tales of woe, here is one such with a most poignant climax.
Grandfather Abe sat in his chair beside the old log fire. Stubborn, obstinate, he had refused to leave with his family when they had told him the house wasn’t safe and looked likely to collapse. The rushing waters of the swollen river rising ever higher at its back door. He insisted that the river had served him all his long life and would never hurt him now, but he was wrong. He was just drifting off to sleep when the end came and only awoke when he found himself in the water, miraculously unharmed by the tumbling masonry, all that was left of his beloved cottage as it toppled backwards into the torrent.
His wife, watching from outside, where she had waited in the cold and driving rain shaking her head at his obstinacy, gasped as she saw the collapsing building, safe from her position across the road from their front garden. Fearing the worst for her husband she rushed back to what had now become the water’s edge. It was not yet completely dark and suddenly she saw a shape in the water, arms thrashing wildly. It was Abe struggling to escape the fast flowing stream. His wife cried out, “Here Abe,” and bracing herself against the railings that were previously the garden fence, leaned through and reached out her arms to him. This appeared to give him renewed strength and in two strokes he reached the railings but the effort took it’s toll. He started to roll over. With superhuman effort his wife managed to grab hold of his braces and drag him towards her till he could grab the railings himself.
With one last heave she dragged him to the lowest bar. Exhausted she leaned her arm on the top rail but with the water around her feet she over balanced and with a loud cry toppled into the water to be swept away. Her body later recovered about half a mile downstream wedged under the remains of one of the many bridges destroyed by the flood. Old Abe never recovered from the shock of losing his wife in that way. He knew that it was only because of his attitude she had lost her life and was never the same again.
I knew I couldn’t contain the look of excitement that must have been obvious on my face. The day had started so well. Leave the hotel at four am. transport to the small river taxi that took myself, my partner and six other tourists across to the West bank of the Nile to catch the minibus to our launch area. The experience of a lifetime, a balloon trip over the Valley of the Kings. While the balloon was inflated we completed our briefings and then, cameras at the ready, all climbed into the gondola ready for launch. We were in the air just as the sun started to rise. it was about thirty minutes into the flight when the pilot began to look worried as we noticed that the balloon was covering the ground much more rapidly. It was an unusual occurrence but we had been carried up into the sky much higher than usual in a freak desert whirlwind and were now at the mercy of the elements. In broken English our pilot explained that he had no control of us now, he was certain the ground crew would be able to keep following us in their four by four safety vehicles till we were able to land. He was sure we would be safe and there was no need to panic. We were in for a long flight but eventually we should be safely back on the ground, although he was unable to tell us when or where.
of animal, fish or plant
lost to extinction,
will by way of Nature move
mankind down the same sure path
Sounds of jollity
carried on electric light,
pierce ivy shutters,
through twice glazed frames declaring
It is hard to find the words to describe the allure of the Goddess known as Marilyn Monroe. With the power to enthral all class of men from pauper to President, this woman, both a film and recording star, who today would probably be described as oversized, still features in the dreams of many.
The real meaning of enlightenment
the moon is rising...
Last weekend, firing up the Mountfield, I took aim and cut as graceful an arc as I could with a mower having a fixed wheel on each corner. We are “wilding” part of our front lawn and I was striking the dividing line.
It’s a trend. Now that we’ve started, we notice quite a few gardens have done it, many with an advanced growth of red poppies, cornflowers, and daisies. I expect there are other wild plants in there too though too short and too far away to see.
To speed things along, ready seeded turf can be laid, or you can sow wildflower mixtures from a seed packet. It’s much more interesting to watch how things develop by nature, I think, though there is a temptation to give it a helping hand. Of course, some intervention is necessary to stop the dominant weeds taking over, like dandelions. Though it…
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Hello, my dear readers! As promised, today’s post is going to revolve around our favorite topic… WRITING!!! The past few months have been heavily devoted to life updates, poems, and musings, so it is about time for some source material on this blog, and that is the art of writing! The truth is that we as […]
via 5 TIPS TO IMPROVE YOUR WRITING — Katie Kay!
The creatures of the earth were offered to the maiden. A lion, bull, goat, ram, scorpion, crab, fish from the sea. Chosen twins held the scales, as the water-bearer performed her ritual. The archer, bow in hand stood guard over the ancient ceremony.
Clad in matching tones
lovers fixed in cold embrace
their limbs entwined.
Shy beneath their parasol
whispering with the wind.