Caught by the storm

Text 1: The Garden Party, by Philippa Rowe

An original letter written in a nineteenth-century voice; a period simulation, not an archival document.

Dear Harriet, the Vicarage garden party was to have been the event of the summer, and for an hour it was. The lawn was set with tables, the band of the Volunteers played under the cedar, and every lady in the parish had put on her best muslin. Then, at about four, Mrs Denholm remarked that the sky over the church had turned the colour of a bruise, and before anyone could answer her there came a crack of thunder that sent the bandmaster’s music flying.

You never saw such a rout. The rain came down not in drops but in ropes. Ladies fled for the house holding their skirts above their ankles, the curate ran with a plate of sandwiches held over his head as an umbrella, and the Volunteers abandoned their drum upon the lawn, where it filled up like a bucket.

And yet, when we were all crammed together in the Vicarage hall, dripping and ruined, nobody could stop laughing. Old Lady Barham, whom I have never seen smile, laughed till she cried. When it cleared, the air smelt of wet roses, and I think everyone was happier than if the day had gone as planned.

Text 2: Mud, Glorious Mud, by Shaun Pickering

An original contemporary blog.

The festival had been perfect for two days: sunshine, glitter, the smell of veggie burgers drifting across the main field. Then, halfway through the Saturday headliner, my friend Amy pointed at the sky behind the stage and said, “That looks like a bruise.” Ten seconds later a bang of thunder drowned out the band and the lights flickered.

The rain did not fall so much as arrive, all at once, like someone had tipped over a bath. Thirty thousand people scattered. I saw a man in a gold sequinned jacket sprinting with a pizza box on his head, and a group of girls in white dresses sliding down the hill on their backsides. The band ran off and left a drum kit filling up with water.

We ended up squashed into a beer tent with about four hundred complete strangers, soaked through, our tents probably floating away, and everyone was laughing. A security guard who had glared at us all weekend was dancing with a bin bag on as a poncho. When it stopped, the whole field smelt of grass and steam, and honestly it was the best night of the festival.

Both writers describe an outdoor event interrupted by a storm.

What are the similarities between the writers’ accounts of the storm and how people react?

Draw on evidence from both texts to support your answer.