It didn’t in fact, but it was a close run thing. We got up this morning to find that the terrible pressure of the swollen burn had so loosened the dam thatthe run-off pipe up had been forced up at an angle, and thus, the mouth was actually above water level. Water, therefore, was up to capacity, sloshing up to the top of the dam, running round the side, and, alarmingly, through it, in a roaring khaki torrent. Quite terrifying really, and suggesting that we were no little time off No Dam Any More. The Professor and I tried to get the mouth of the pipe back below the surface, and failed, though we both fell in (to thigh level, before anyone gets too worried, not waters closing over one’s head, though it was not pleasant & I have taken the skin off my left knee like Just William. Fortunately nobody sees my knees these days). We sloshed back to the house & rang Mr Tonka Toy who was on answerphone; it was one of my crisper telephonic messages tho’ I say it myself; and it got him here within forty-five minutes. We were at that point on our way out of the door with appointments in Aberdeen; but Mr TT I believe then donned his waders & sawed the pipe off at the point where it entered the dam, thus causing the overflow to spout through it at incredible pressure & preventing anything getting any worse. By the time we came back, things had quietened down, and when he returned on an evening visit of inspection, he undertook to consolidate the area of squish where the water is getting through, so we should be all right. It has been sobering, though, contemplating the terrible unstoppability of water.