We are well trained in the ‘leap out of bed and stagger towards the computer modem and phone plugs’ dance.
But I must admit that I was more intent on peering out the window to see if it was raining as well as booming.
And joy, oh joy, there was a patter of rain. Not soaking rain. Not drenching rain. A patter. It lasted about an hour which felt great. And it did a good job of distracting us from worrying whether our internet and phone lines were still intact.
All fine. And dare I admit I was skipping down the drive towards the rain gauge? A rain dance.
It isn’t a stellar amount. Only five mm, which I think is a quarter of an inch in old money. But that will do. It is the first measurement I have taken in five whole weeks.
Our friend Diana, who lives near Les Vans, further south in the Ardèche keeps careful records of her rainfall.
She wrote to Andrew saying that she has recorded just nine inches of rain for the whole year of 2015. And that means that the total rainfall for the nine months is less than the single day of rain he had at the beginning of November 2014 when his road got swept away.
Sorry, Dad. I know you are a metric man, but I think you can remember inches of rain. Luckily you are bilingual.
And it must have been a bit of a thrill for all the music fans in their tents across the valley at our village. It looks like Glastonbury over there. A wonderful site. It’s the 3oth anniversary of our village festival and no expense has been spared in booking bands and making sure we had our Ardèche quote of bongo drums.
We have lots of house guests at the moment, so I think we will be ‘enjoying’ the music from afar.
To celebrate the rain and the first time to actually be int he potager after 9am I have picked bunches and bunches of flowers.
Treats for all.