Day three into his new home, ten foot shy of the highest point in the Cotswolds, and what happens? Rob's new house got flooded. Absolutely not fair. And he doesn't even have the internet to find out local phone numbers. He is quite chipper, considering, but I feel utterly rotten for him.

His garden slopes slightly downwards to the house, and is contained on three sides by sturdy brick walls. When all the rains fell, the water didn't have a chance to drain, so whooshed down the hill and overpowered the doorstep (which is more like a door-recess).

Andy and I are going to visit him tomorrow with emergency provisions and mops. I may get him to hand-write a blog post that I can then retype, like they used to do in the olden days. You know, when men would give dictation to their secretaries who would then type up their, er, blog posts. I'm sure it was something along those lines.

Kind and supportive words would be appreciated so I can pass them on to Rob tomorrow, like a sort of word-based Red Cross parcel.