I know the foreigners reading this will find it hard to believe, but by midday yesterday the rain stopped. No, really, it did. Taking advantage of the sudden spell of damp conditions, I decided to wander down to Mouldon Hill and see if the cew from the Swindon & Cricklade Railway had laid tracks as far as the park yet.

You might have realised by now that I don't get out much at nights. Fear not, I'm just setting the scene. There will be no further mention of matters relating to trains, railways, number plates, axle configurations, or cigar-smoking engineers in top hats.

Anyhow, since by now the ground had been promoted from muddy mess to impassable quagmire, and since my experience of british weather has taught me to be a little circumspect on days like this, I donned my action-man hiking gear and set forth.

You might have realised at this point that I don't get many invites to parties. Fear not, I'm just describing my typical attention to detail concerning survival in the wilderness. Swindon can be such a wild place.

Now the route goes over a small river bridge, the water being about ten feet across and about deep enough for a mouse to drown in. But not yesterday. With the heavy rains filling every babbling brook in the area, the water was almost level with the bridge and had flooded the fields on one side. That was a clue to what was coming later.

Behind the Mannington Trading Estate I decided to take a photo of the flooded woodland next to the path. It looked a little like this...

Pic of the Day

Having successfully avoided getting wet, I climbed back out of the bushes where a few curious shoppers had spotted me creeping through the undergrowth and were curious as to what I was doing. I nodded a greeting as I strode away, the bemused onlookers pointing into the trees as if they knew what it was I had taken a picture of. Talk about not seeing the wood for the trees.

Flood of the Week

In all seriousness, some places were treachorous, not to mention downright dangerous, with rivers concealed under inundated fields. Finally I got to Mouldon Hill Park. Despite it's name, its a large pond with a path around it. A quiet and secluded place where people walk dogs and feed ducks. Except the pond had been replaced by a lake that had hidden the path. So I joined a crowd of bemused dog walkers and duck feeders. We all agreed that we hadn't expected this. There you go. Proof that communities can act co-operatively after all. Apart from Lucy the dog, who decided that chasing ducks was more fun than obeying her master and.. well.. yes, I got wet after all.