In late September, for the second time this year, our normally timid little Wyre swelled, roared and prowled about its boundaries, causing havoc and bringing this true tale to mind. Some 50 years ago, within shouting distance of the Cartford, an Over Wyre poultry farmer cursed impotently. The flood had drowned his entire flock and left him marooned on the roof of a hen cabin. Just then a smart young Gazette reporter came into view, rowing a boat. He wished the farmer a good morning. The farmer made no reply. Would he mind being interviewed for the paper? The farmer made no reply. Gazing around him the reporter observed that the situation was almost biblical. The farmer made no reply. 'It reminds one of Noah,' warbled the reporter.
'Who?' asked the farmer.
'Noah.You know, Noah and the ark and the dove,' said the reporter. 'You must have heard of Noah and the ark and the dove.'
The farmer shook his head. 'Nay lad. I've heard nowt. We've had no papers delivered for three days. It's these bloody floods.'
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