Thursday 31 December 2015

Shine

I've been away from the blog having a happy time with family and friends, and I hope you have too. And a gift that somebody gave me this Christmas is the gift of flight. It was planted into my imagination when I was thinking of something else. Good gifts often start that way.

So come with me and let's fly over Mistmantle. It's night there. A few hedgehogs and moles are awake, sipping hot drinks and telling stories. Urchin is on night duty at the top of the tower stairs. (He didn't have to be on guard tonight, but he swapped to cover for another squirrel who has a new born baby and should be at home with his family.) Almondflower wriggles and talks to herself in her sleep. Mistress Tay snores. Even Fingal is asleep. Juniper wakes, goes to the window, smiles up at the moon, and listens to the shushing of the waves as we fly far overhead, too far for him to see.

But we can't hover over Mistmantle all night. The enchantments will not let us stay, and we must fly to the world we know. We will fly now over one of the most delightful places I know. It doesn't look delightful, though, not at first. It looks wet, muddy and sludgy, and piles of wet furniture, carpets and rubbish are piled up on the streets. Walls have caved in. There are whole streets with no lights on, this New Year's Eve.

Put Mytholmroyd Floods 2015 into a search engine. See for yourselves.

This is Mytholmroyd, the delightful, friendly, quirky, creative Yorkshire village that was such a big and happy part of our lives for nine years - it still is, we just don't live there any more. We've had flooding there before in 2012 in midsummer, but what happened on Boxing Day this year was far, far worse. In a very short time, the water came up to the tops of the shop doors. It poured in wherever it could. Walls caved in. Roads were closed. The children will have to be dispersed to other schools because the school won't be open for six months. Water rose up into the churches and their halls, the sheltered housing complex, whole streets of houses, and every shop and pub in the village. Gas and electricity supplies are off in a lot of places, including our old street. It is heartbreaking.

Royd, being Royd, is fighting back. Already they are cleaning, sorting stuff out, and most of all, helping each other. It is a wonderful community. God bless Mytholmroyd.

Let's hear it. Shout it. Share it. Let the stars hear it. God Bless Mytholmroyd!

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