I am still in Wales.
I got a train from Newtown to Machynlleth to work in a school this morning, except it was delayed by an hour, so I got to Machynlleth late.
It had rained all night and was still raining. The fields were like lakes, sheep clustered on high ground, trying not to drown.
I had slept badly.
I walked to the school, asking directions as I went. In the rain. Half way there and it started chucking it down. By the time I arrived I was soaked.
But there was a room full of lads waiting to do a penalty shoot out, so I put my goal up. I’d hardly got started when a lad came into the class to tell us some of the school buses were taking people home. At 10.30am. The lesson ended. And I was told I should try to get out of Machynlleth (by, I should mention, a lovely teacher called Carwen).
I got to the station. All the trains were off. I was told we were cut off. But that there might be a bus in an hour to get me out of there.
Two hours later a bus came. It struggled through flood water and gridlocked villages.
And now I am in Welshpool, which is lovely. And I’m writing.