‘Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.’ The famous quotation could have been applied to my home village when, a few days ago, the heavens were open, but our taps were dry.

Did I panic? No – because, as I keep reminding my husband, I’d prepared for such an emergency with at least a dozen bottles of water stored in the garage.

“You see, that water has come in useful after all,” I told him. He rants about my ‘nuclear’ store, made up of items I have squirreled away in the event of a missile attack.

I haven’t gone the whole hog and bought every item in the Government’s Protect And Survive booklet. The lawn mower isn’t surrounded by bedding, spare clothes, crockery, toilet rolls, cooking equipment and fuel. But I have a small store of rations ready to use in an emergency – water, tinned food, candles and a wind-up torch.

My husband thinks they’re using up valuable space, so when our water went off, I was thrilled to be able to prove their worth by using my little reservoir to make cups of tea for us and for neighbours, and fill hot water bottles (we couldn’t use the central heating).

It isn’t healthy to be paranoid about disasters, but everyone should have an emergency store. My dad did and that’s probably where I get it from. Whenever we had a power cut, out would come the oil lamps and candles, then he’d light the fire and make use of the toasting fork.

We take everything for granted, and when its not there we feel helpless. Not long ago we had a power cut for the first time in years. Now we’ve experienced an afternoon without water, although I’m well aware that two hours without a running tap is nothing compared to life without water in some Third World villages.

It may be a taste of things to come and prompted me to call up the Protect And Survive booklet on the internet for some further tips.

“A box of dry sand to clean utensils when tissues and tea towels run out”… That’s assuming I’d already got tissues and tea towels – which I hadn’t. You need an emergency to find out what you need in an emergency.

Cutlery, a mechanical clock, a calendar, and – am I glad I looked – a can opener. It hadn’t even entered my head. I’d look a proper fool in our ‘shelter’ with all those tinned peaches, corned beef and tomato soup, but no way of opening the tins.