Eleven days without a shout... That's a record in the seven years I've been at Normanshurst.

And, of course, the drought came to an end on Saturday - right in the middle of a family get together for my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. I was digesting my main course and psyching myself up for a large slice of Black Forest gateau and cream when that little black thing with cobwebs on it kicked into life. Bugger! "Got to go, sorry..." as I leave the family to divvy up the dessert without me in the reckoning for a piece...

Animal rescue - horse in a ditch at Uggeshall, just off the A145 between Beccles and Halesworth.

Green Watch get dressed in their water rescue gear as Mel finds the van has a flat battery - again. Jump leads on from the mains battery charger, stand clear and off she goes... I think Workshops need to take a look at that!

Billy and I set off on the Unimog while phone calls are made to make up the crew for Ladder 1.

By the time we were nearing Uggeshall Ladder 1 has caught us up and they follow us in, relying on my Boy Scouts map reading skills. And, as luck would have it, we hit the spot and were met with the site of a horse laying on its side in its very own mud bath.

Ladder 1 pulled up behind us but the Water Rescue van was nowhere to be seen. They'd taken a different route and arrived from the opposite direction.

I took a line and edged round the muddy ditch and into the corner of the field into which we were hoping to pull the horse. I took a step closer to the horse to tie the line to its halter when my left foot just kept going down. Down to the point where mud went up between my leggings and my boots and over the top to, quite literally, fill my boot. Bugger, for the second time!

After a couple of failed attempts the line was tied directly around the horses neck and we started the tug-o-war. Surprisingly the horse came free with just six of us pulling on the line. And after a short breather the horse was on its feet and wondering what all the fuss was about.

Now for a clean up - disinfectant spray, high pressure hose over my firekit, outside and inside my boot and a soggy left trouser leg that gradually seeped mud down my leg all the way back to Lowestoft. And does that stuff stink? Not only that, you can't get rid of it either.

Hose down again at Normanshurst, showered left leg and back home for a general delousing.

And finally, a large chunk of Black Forest followed by a similarly large chunk of anniversary cake. Never let it be said that the Fire Service or the pungent aroma of ditch water ever spoils my appetite.

– IAN CARTER (www.accessiblewebsites.co.uk)

www.alerter.co.uk