My mother and I lived in a log cabin in the upper section of a rural French village. During the day she worked in the cinema further down the valley, quite close to the river and the lake. My daily routine involved travelling to Inverary to write journal articles with my co-authors RA, GW and SK, and a young man whose contributions were very much appreciated.
I often wondered what would happen if a sudden surge of meltwater from the mountains ever hit the upper reaches of the river. Would the valley flood? What would become of the lower section of the village?
On the day that my ponderings turned to reality I was extremely grateful to be safe at home in the log cabin. I watched in awe and horror as a huge tsunami came tumbling down the mountains.
However, my escape was not without its difficulties. I lost my mother, and the flood cut me off from most of the rest of the world. I was left with just my four Dutch neighbours for company, and none of us had any food. In addition, some essential items – such as my wallet, iPhone and camera – were in Inverary, so I had no ID or money.
When we five survivors eventually came across an information desk where we could ask for help we struck another problem. My French was so poor that I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain our situation and beg for help.
Dreamaticus 