Yesterday I read a New York Times article about the flooding in Southern Britain, with the story of John Burrow, an old chap who had to be evacuated:
As for Mr. Burrow, he said the worst part of being flooded was the struggle to evacuate his cats, one of whom jumped into the water in fear. Finally, he corralled them into cat boxes provided by the fire department and, led by several firefighters, he waded through the river that had been the road, being careful not to fall into a manhole after their covers had been ripped off by the force of the water.
“I wasn’t scared, as long as I could wade along the road,” he said. “And the war was worse.”
The war was worse. What understatement. Carry on, sir! 