Thursday 20 February 2020

Fighting the elements


Well, the waters may be receding but, in the Biblical phrase, there is no sign yet of "a rainbow standing across the land". For the residents of Monmouthshire, and those in Herefordshire, Worcestershire and Shropshire, the effects of the floods will be felt for a long time to come.  Living on a hill, we are very fortunate, having nothing more than a shortage of drinking water to worry about (the water treatment plant in Monmouth was inundated and is without power). But for those living closer to river level the last few days have been catastrophic.

I've written before about how the weather and people's fight against the elements feature large in so much literature. I was looking back last night over some of my writing. When I was researching the background to my own family history in Monmouthshire in the nineteenth century for my book "Digging Up The Family - A Lesson In Social History" I came across frequent references to the great flood of October 17th 1883. That evening a fierce storm was blowing up the Severn Estuary and it corresponded with the highest tide of the century; at 7pm. a tidal wave of water six feet high suddenly engulfed the land all along the Caldicot Levels. Miraculously, all eighty three men trapped in the shaft of the Severn Tunnel, then under construction, were saved by the heroic measures taken by their comrades above ground (a story well worth reading). My grandfather, aged five at the time, and his family were in a cottage in the direct path of the wave, which swept up from the wharf, through their garden and into the house. My great grandparents and the older boys grabbed the smallest children (it was a big family) and fled with them to the comparative safety of the upstairs rooms whilst the storm battered at the windows. The devastation awaiting them downstairs and outside next morning was unprecedented.

Perhaps we now have more sophisticated approaches to planning for and dealing with "natural disasters" but it's becoming glaringly obvious how much we have ourselves to blame for the frequency and the extent of many of them. Our tardiness at getting to grips with climate change, policies that sacrifice safety for profit (inappropriate house building on flood plains etc.) - I could go on.  The politicians' knee jerk reactions to the present crisis and their fervent promises of assistance in the media sadly give little hope for any meaningful, long term strategies. 


Sunday 9 February 2020

"Whatever the weather ..."

I'm sitting here in my study looking out on the very wild morning delivered to us by Storm Ciara. I took the dog out for a two hour walk early on, before the rain set in, as she certainly won't be getting much of a one later. We had the wind behind us to start with but coming back into a head wind was definitely a challenge - hardly the 86 mph gusts they've had at Capel Curig, but enough to take me off my feet at one point. Carys, of course, was fine - this is when having four legs and a low centre of gravity is really advantageous!

No wonder the weather becomes such a major feature - indeed a character in its own right - in so much literature. The effect it has upon individuals, decisions they make, their environments, on history itself  (the decision when to launch the D Day invasion for example) - it has tremendous significance. At the moment I'm reading "Twenty Thousand Saints" by Fflur Daffydd, a novel set on Bardsey Island; the elements rule the lives of those living on Bardsey and those coming, as do Daffydd's characters, for recreation, religion or less reputable reasons. The narrow straight of water between the island and the mainland and the winds and tides that govern it subtly dominate the narrative. It's an intriguing story on many levels - well worth a read.