The ususal tug of war against our next village neighbours never took place.  Sunday the area was prepared.  Nettles were strimmed down, a foot bridge was built over the border-marking brook, and a dam built of corregated iron was placed against the road bridge.  All this was done in the cold, wet rain.  Hopefully the day of the event would be better.

Monday moring, George rang, wondering whether we should cancel the event.  It was still raining, and had been all night.  So we decided it should be cancelled.  Drove down to the border to dismantle the bridge and dam.  On arrival was a little worried our dam building might have been rather too effective, the water was flooding the surrounding fields and was higher than the bridge arch.  Luckily this was not the case; the whole of the river on the other side of bridge was also above the fields.  There was nothing we could do to retrieve the dam on the bridge until the water died down.

 It rained the rest of the day.