Thursday 31 October 2013

We Can Talk About The Weather

In Britain we don’t so much have a climate as lots of weather. It is often said that we sometimes experience four seasons in one day and the fact that we get so much weather is the principle reason that we talk about it so often; there is always something to talk about. Last Friday the media went into overdrive as forecasters began warning of a weather system developing in the Atlantic that they predicted would bring hurricane force winds of up to 90 mph and as much as twelve inches of rain. Nowhere over the weekend could you avoid news of the impending storm and inevitably comparisons were drawn with The Great Storm of 1987.

The forecast for last Monday - not particularly dramatic looking.
Yes, The Great Storm of 1987 was on everyone’s lips over the weekend and Michael Fish, the BBC meteorologist whose fame was assured the moment he referred to the potential of a storm in his forecast in October ‘87, was wheeled out on television to recount his version of events. “Earlier on today, apparently, a woman rang the BBC and said she heard there was a hurricane on the way; well, if you're watching, don't worry, there isn't, but having said that, actually, the weather will become very windy, but most of the strong winds, incidentally, will be down over Spain and across into France.” That was what he said back in 1987 and although he did warn that it would be “very windy” in the South of England, no one really expected what followed. In typically British fashion, Mr Fish is most remembered (and endearingly so) for something he got wrong.

Since most other people have been at it, this is what I recall from 1987. On the evening of 15th October 1987, a Thursday, I had been to the theatre in London. On the way home, as I stood waiting for a train at Stratford, I was struck by how preternaturally  calm it was. Not a breath of air to be felt; it seemed positively muggy. I went home, went to bed and the next thing I knew my alarm clock radio was going off at 6.30 the next morning. The radio was tuned to Radio 4 and the newsreader was recounting how the BBC had the emergency generator going and they were using storm lanterns in the studio. What, I wondered, was going on? I went downstairs to find that my parents (this was a couple of years before I got married) had been up most of the night, having been awoken by the howling gale that I had managed to sleep through. Outside it did seem a bit draughty and there was a tree or two that had parted company with the ground. As the radio said there were no overground trains or buses in my area, I set off for work on foot to walk to the nearest tube station. Despite suggestions on the radio that people should stay at home, it didn’t really occur to me not to try to get to work.

1987 - Tree flattens car. Photo: Daily Mirror
2013 - Tree flattens car. 


On the way to the underground station I saw plenty of evidence of the damage the weather had wrought. There was debris all over the place and it was lucky that the storm had hit during the night as some pretty weighty objects had been tossed about like confetti. Had the storm hit during the day there would have been significant casualties; as it was between 16 and 19 deaths have been attributed to the 1987 storm. Having caught a tube at Dagenham East, I was turfed off at Plaistow due to a tree on the line, caught a bus to Stratford and a tube from there to Bank. Arriving at work, I found that about a third of my colleagues had made it in. With no key holders and therefore no access to the safe, we were told by Head Office not to open the doors. Customers phoned to complain that we hadn’t called them with information that we normally provided each day, to which we answered that we didn’t know what the weather was like with them but it had been a bit windy in London and as a result we were a bit short-handed (the point is always more effectively conveyed with a bit of understatement - or is that sarcasm?). Ultimately the Bank of England declared it a non-working day.

I guess that overall I was pretty lucky; my area only got the edge of the storm and damage was relatively light compared with say, Sevenoaks, where six of the trees that give the town its name were blown over. There were ships capsized or driven ashore in the English Channel, caravan sites were flattened and on the Isle of Wight, Shanklin pier was reduced to a pile of wood.

1987 and a cross-channel ferry is run ashore. Photo: Huffington Post

The storm that hit Britain last weekend was not quite as ferocious as that of 1987. The top wind speed in 1987 was 115 mph at Shoreham in Sussex; this time round it was 99 mph at The Needles on the Isle of Wight. There were a number of other key differences this year, however. Firstly, we knew it was coming. In 1987 the storm came as a surprise; this year the forecasters were all over it and the public and industry had time to prepare. My wheelie bins were in the garage on Sunday morning as I had no desire to chase them down the road in a gale. The conservatory roof, however was another matter. It creaks and groans in the wind anyway and I had visions of panels flying off into neighbouring gardens when the storm hit; fortunately it held on.

Since the country was prepared, contingency plans swung were invoked. In 1987 the idea of a Business Recovery Plan was pretty rare. Companies had vague plans for what would happen in an emergency, but they were rarely tested; it really was a case of hoping for the best if bad weather or any other contingency occurred. Even when the IRA were bombing the British mainland there was little in the way of contingency planning. These days the global threat of terrorism and the more mundane weather related problems mean that firms large and small have contingency plans, which are regularly updated and tested. Hence when the threat of last Monday's storm loomed, these plans swung unto operation.

Another major difference between the storm of 1987 and the St Jude's Day storm this year was that a contingency that many companies could bring into play was having their staff work from home. In 1987 working from home was not a viable alternative, indeed it was unheard of; nowadays many firms have staff working from home at all times and their ability to do so enabled a continuity of service impossible twenty six years ago. The advances in technology, along with enabling home working, have seen the proliferation of social media channels like Facebook and Twitter. As ever these went into overdrive as people swapped stories and photographs before, during and after the storm.

The rail network pretty much shut down in the South of England, which initially appeared to be an over-reaction. It actually proved quite wise as most lines were affected by fallen trees or downed power lines; the fact that the shut-down was known in advance significantly reduced the number of passengers stranded at one station, or standing forlornly at another, waiting for a train that would never come.

Sadly, two people died when falling trees ruptured gas pipes, causing an explosion. 

The difference between the way in which were heard about, reacted to and were affected by the storms of 1987 and 2013 is in a way a representation of how Britain has changed in the last twenty six years. 1987 doesn't seem that long ago, yet the changes in that time have been immense. Looking at the BBC website on Tuesday, the startling thing is how relatively limited the coverage of the storm is; the impact on some people has been significant, but compared with 1987, the day after the storm is, for many people, as if it had never happened.

Next on the list of weather topics will doubtless be snow. There is annual criticism of how, compared with say Scandinavia, Britain always grinds to a halt even when there is a mere sprinkling of snow, to which I say that in Norway or Sweden they know when it is coming. In Britain it will be forecast, but not arrive, or despite it not being forecast, we will wake up one morning to find four inches of snow on the driveway.

Oscar Wilde may have said "Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative", but the weather is a topic of conversation that will never go out of fashion; not in Britain at least.


2 comments:

  1. Spot on Mike. Something else has changed over the years: the media is hell bent on us all turning into scared little rabbits that flinch at the slightest danger, real or perceived. There's a line from Sean of the Dead that comes to mind at this moment: "let's go to the Winchester till it all blows over".

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  2. Best memory from 1987. My parents had a newsagents in Goodmayes at the time and this was the run up to Guy Fawkes Night. They had gone into the shop early in the morning to deal with the papers but had no power.

    I called into the shop on the way to work to find the shop open with Mum and Dad in semi-darkness busy serving customers by the light of a Tilley Lamp which sat on the counter. I then pointed out that perhaps using a Tilley Lamp wasn't a great idea as under the counter was a large selection of fireworks !

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