Ark, where art thou?

Or, ‘why Noah built an Ark rather than buying a citroen hatchback’.

Despite the best efforts of scientists and former US presidents to convince us that the world is heating up and becoming a desert metropolis, it’s been very wet and windy across the UK over the last few days. When we lived in a city, it meant we would watch the local news and see images of flooded fields and fallen trees and wonder what all the fuss was about. Now that we live in the countryside, it’s our local fields and roads that are on the news.

Heading to work on Wednesday, I suddenly forgot who I was, and came over all gung-ho explorer-man. Merrily pootling my way to work on my country roads, avoiding branches and wheelie bins which had suddenly decided to commit suicide by laying down in the road, I was met with a flood. Not some puddle. Technically, I suppose, you could have called my road a river. Its usual single-tracked black asphalt nature had gone all muddy brown and flowing. Drainage ditches on either side had over-flowed, and covered the road in about 6 inches of brown water.

One car at the front of the queue turned around but, and I ‘m not sure I’ll ever know exactly why, I decided to plough on. Or ‘boat on’ more precisely. “Harsh revs and dip the clutch” I remember the driving manual telling me 10 years ago. And I made it. “Hurrah”, I thought, “I have beaten the elements, and now on to my first base camp of the day where I will put up a tent and cook beans”.

Then I saw the next one. Longer, a little deeper, faster flowing. All was well until a truck coming the other way creating a bow wave that pushed water over the bonnet of the car in front. But somehow I made it. I made it to find the road was closed further upstream. A 4×4 jeep gave up and turned around saying it was too bad – my expedition was over. I had to go back. Past the BMW driver who I smugly boated by, as he stepped out into water above his Armani-clad ankles. Steam and smoke billowed out of my little green canal boat. We were moving at a pleasant couple of knots when the clutch gave way under the effect of the muddy water. We were chugging, kangaroo hopping, but so nearly there. Until the dapper chap in the car in front stopped to talk to motorists coming the other way, leaving me still in the water. LEAVING ME STILL IN THE WATER! The clutch gave up, and technically, for a few seconds, I was sailing. Drifting in the flood water which I swear had a current to it.

But I made it. Home and dry. And after a few miles the car started behaving less boaty and more car-like again. And the only negative results seem to be the cost of going through a car-wash, and 10 minutes spent clambering under my car, in the rain, replacing the air-filter which had been slightly submerged in the sailing activities.

All the fun of the country. I definitely think Noah was right – you definitely need a boat, not a little green citroen, if you’re going out and about during flood conditions though.