When I said yesterday that the forecast thunder had not arrived I did not have long to wait. 

Forewarned by Miss Flum, who lives on the approach path of the storm, we were able to watch the whole spectacle from the comfort of our windows, to the south and north, as the lightning flashed every four seconds to the accompaniment of a constant rumble interspersed with loud crashes of thunder, all the while to rain teeming down. We watched the storm's progress on different websites which note every flash and mark the spread of the thunderclap, as the storm gradually travelled north, creating the devastation reported on the news today.

I have not witnessed such a storm for 40-odd years when moored on the Thames at Henley, a storm broke out in the small hours of the night, lightning sparked constantly and rain seethed on the water. I peeled back the curtain and watched from my bunk until fatigue took over and I could not keep my eyes open any longer -  the others slept through it all but it felt such a wasted opportunity.

Expecting the waterways to be running high we drove down to the River Almond at Caddells Row and walked as far as the weir, where the fish ladder (a weir by-pass) was actually overflowing and the water the colour of milky coffee (that's the more polite comparison). The last time we were there it was rather more serene. 

Nearer to home, two manholes marked by traffic cones had discharged and removed their covers, a common occurrence in exceptionally heavy rain.