Well that was a summer, wasn’t it?

Scorching temperatures, wildfires – especially just down the road here from Old Bridge number 38 in Stourbridge.

No need to go to Benidorm, just collapse on the sun lounger alongside the towpath and slap on the factor 50.

Low water levels, so moor up alongside the nearest pub and try to make the best of it.

Job’s a good one – not seen the like since 1976.

But dear reader, I bring a dire warning.

El Nino is hotting up in the Pacific and promising a winter of torrential downpours to top up the reservoirs that the water companies neglect in favour of their shareholders. (Oops! A bit political there. Sorry).

El Nino? I hear you query.

Well, let me try to explain. Say, for example, you boiled a kettle of water and chucked the lot into the turbulent waters of the Grand Union, then in all probability sometime around a week next Thursday we’d have a week’s worth of rain in 24 ½ hours down here on the Staffs and Worcs.

Same principle, only a lot bigger and wetter. El Nino is by all accounts a bit nasty.

And if a butterfly dared to flap its wings somewhere by Botterham Lock around the same time, then we’d probably have gales, hurricanes and tidal waves as well.

How do I know?

Because we’re used to disaster here in the Black Country. In 2002 for example, an almighty earthquake hit Dudley in the early hours of the morning. It measured 4.8 on the ‘slightly wobbly scale.’

How well I remember it. Well actually I don’t, it takes more than the earth moving to wake me from my fitful slumber. But it was extremely serious. I heard that someone’s chimney pot fell off in Upper Gornal.

We’ve had volcanos erupting too. Oh yes indeed. Up there at Barrow Hill next to Russell’s Hall hospital. Or the Pensnett Hilton as we call it.

Okay, it hasn’t gone off for a few million years and they reckon it’s extinct, but you can’t fool me. I know that it’s just lulling us into a false sense of security, just waiting to turn Pensnett into a latter-day Pompeii.

The Severn Bore happens quite a lot too. A tidal wave hurtling up the River Severn. It hasn’t happened yet, but someone only has to leave the lock gates open at Stourport so that it can take a quick right turn up the cut and we’ll be under water here before you can say, ‘Pass the wellies.’

So please believe me when I tell you to batten down the hatches. We’re in for a spell of inclement weather this winter. The sort of winter that will make you regret the words you uttered at the height of the heatwave, ‘Oh I wish it would cool down a bit, my 99 keeps melting all over the dog!’

Enjoy – and don’t forget your brolly.