Rain, rain, glorious rain.

Though you can have too much of a good thing. ‘Well, exactly, yes, quite’ as the best and most musical umpire we ever had at Oatlands cricket club would say. His name was Peter Parker. Not the same Peter Parker that was top man at British Rail in the ’70’s though. He (the BR Chairman not the ump) wanted to appoint a new ad agency and arrived at Allen Brady and Marsh, one of the candidates - a top fashionable agency at the time - and was asked by a surly receptionist, filing her nails and smoking a fag, to wait in reception. The room was filled with overflowing ashtrays, half-empty coffee cups and magazines lying on the floor. An hour later, and fuming, he was greeted by Peter Marsh the MD and demanded an apology for the delay. Well, said Marsh, now you know how it feels to be a British Rail passenger. ABM got the business.

Sorry…got side-tracked. Back to the rain: October’s downpours have been too much. OK, we needed some wetness after weeks of dryness but coupled with high tides and the Environment Agency’s refusal to clear shingle from the Cuckmere’s mouth the local landscape has been transformed. The famous meanders ought to look like this (left) but (right) is how they now are:

And as for the rest of the Cuckmere Valley:

Talking of bicycles (which we weren’t but now are) our grand-daughter Bay was allowed to choose her 4th birthday present. Unsurprisingly she opted for this, and here she is on her very first ride…inside. It was raining.

And as a special treat, and because it’s still pouring outside and because you’ll need something to do this weekend and in case you missed my headline’s witty play on words, try this link. (Warning, it might give you an earworm. If so, chew some gum.) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjnOj9O16_I