Rain. You will always remember the rain. You left a sunny and warm September England and arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in horrendous rain. They told you it was the end of Hurricane Isaac. You were earlier than expected to pick up the hire car and it was not ready. He complained, long and loud. There was, of course, more of that to follow.

But that rain was only a tester for what followed later. A two-hundred mile drive to visit Louisbourg, the tickets were bought, and you boarded a bus to the French fort, which the British had destroyed in 1758 and was rebuilt to give employment to the miners when the mines in nearby Sydney closed in 1967. When you left the bus, there was a slight drizzle. You joined a guided tour and from that moment Hurricane Leslie tossed its gigantic bath tub on the site, which was immediately evacuated for safety reasons.

You drove in soaking clothes – there was no protection from this water – to eventually arrive at a comfortable inn in St Peter where you hair-dried and ironed the clothes.

But a week or so later there was more of that to follow.

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