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.
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".
ReplyDeleteBest 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.
ReplyDeleteI 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 !