And it rained and it rained and it rained

And Lo God didst decide that the staff of Barclays (who are based in London) did needst to be punished, and so He sendethst so much rain to wash the filth off these grey streets as has not been seen in all of Christendom. But the greedy bastard derivative traders had buggered off to their villas in the Alpes Maritimes for the weekend and were thus spared. And so it came to pass instead that a birder's garden in Wanstead turned into a lake, and the Wimbledon men's final was played with the roof on.

In other news, and yet another indication of this country going to Hell in a handcart, yesterday I led a guided bird-watching walk in Tower Hamlets. A frankly massive crowd of five people turned up, and we saw many exciting things such as Coots and Mallards. Later on I helped at the school's summer fete, which managed to sneak in slightly before God's apocalyptic wrath was laid bare upon us, and then twitched a Spoonbill at Rainham from a layby on the A13 - looking just over the heap of scrap cars, and just under the Eurostar overpass, a special setting.

Today I was woken up by rain hammering on the windows, and having consulted God's Apoloyptic Radar, have concluded that today is looking very much like an indoor day. If the Spoonbill and Little Egrets get flooded off Rainham, they would be quite happy on the scrape which has just developed in the garden.