LOOKING FOR HATCHES TO BATTEN DOWN.
Storm warning, storm warning! Feel free to panic. The weather forecasters are telling us that high winds, possibly up to hurricane force, and torrential rain are about to hit the British Isles later tonight and for much of tomorrow morning. Looking at the maps showing the predicted path of the tumult it looks like South Wales, Southern England and, eventually, the Northeast of England, will take the worst of the hit. Here on Merseyside it seems we may just on the northern fringes of that passageway and will miss the worst of the weather. Nonetheless it is already obvious that the winds are much stronger here than they were earlier in the day, and from Twitter I see that same can be said in Edinburgh, so it looks like there will widespread effects, even for those off the main route of the storm.
I've had a quick look around my property, but there seems little point in moving bins or tying anything down. We've survived high winds here before and the worst I expect is to see some damage to boundary fences. And there aren't many of them. Further south I imagine it's sensible to be taking more rigorous precautions and try to minimise the potential problems. It's certainly looks like being a day to avoid travel, and stay indoors if at all possible. But I don't expect Southport will see much in the way of fallen trees and flooding, both of which are likely to occur elsewhere, so I still expect to be going out tomorrow. I just hope people can stay safe, especially the homeless.
As soon as a warning like this is issued there follow the inevitable reminiscences about storms past. The most notorious in recent British history was in October 1987, although that's as much for the Michael Fish meme as the actual damage it caused. He claims that he was misquoted, but that can't change the widely held view that the Met Office failed to predict the severity of the impact. Fish, of course, was but the front man for this. In the event there were several deaths and widespread damage which took months to fully clear up.
Recently, at the end of 2011, there was the wonderfully named Hurricane Bawbag, which Scotland laughed off, but did cause a fair bit of damage. But as it didn't go anywhere near the south of England it wouldn't get the same publicity, would it? I missed out on Bawbag by a couple of weeks, Travelling up to Edinburgh just before xmas the extent of the destruction was still evident on the roads and in the fields.
When the 1987 storm hit I was living on the south coast of England, slightly off the path of the most forceful winds, and don't actually recall much about it. There were a few nearby trees uprooted, but no real damage to my property or those nearby, other than a wobbly fence or two. It didn't feel like a big event and I don't recall losing a night's sleep over it.
Whereas the storm of January 1990 made a much greater personal impact. Although less vicious that it's 1987 predecessor, it caused many more deaths because it hit during daylight hours when far more people were out and about. When it hit I was in London on the final day of a training course. I made my way to Euston to find all trains to the Northwest cancelled, with no prospect of them being resumed in the near future. By the time I found this out it seemed likely that every available hotel place would have been snaffled up, but I was keen to see if I could find a way home. After discussions with British Rail staff (this was in pre nationalisation days, something that features prominently in the story I'm about to tell) and other travellers I made my way to Kings Cross.
The work force there proved eager to help everyone they could and I followed their advice to take a train heading for Sheffield. It was packed. Not simply busy, but with every available floorspace occupied by bodies. Uncomfortable, but there was a great spirit of trying to cope with, and overcome, adversity, and a sense of adventure because many of us had no idea where we might end up spending the night. So there were plenty of jokes and lot of laughter.
I've forgotten the exact details, but I think I continued on there all the way to Sheffield, then sought further advice on my next step. Which ended up being a connection to Manchester, with the luxury of an actual seat. It had been much delayed so hardly anybody on board had originally planned to get that train, but it was enough that it was moving, and in the right general direction.
We got into Manchester about midnight and I certainly won't forget what happened next. BR personnel were on hand to ask if anyone needed to be taken any further to get home, and we were allocated into little groups depending on our ultimate destination. The staff (public servants of course), it seemed, were determined to get everyone home to their beds and relished the task of organising the event. It felt more like It's A Knockout than a national emergency.
Each group was provided with a means to get home. As one of those with the furthest distance to travel I wondered what my option would be. I need not have worried. Four of us were bundled into a taxi and told that BR would cover the costs. I can't recall all the stop off points, but I know Wigan was one of them, and that I was the last person to be delivered. Not long before 2am I was in my bed and trying explain to my wife all that happened (this being long before the days when mobile phones became ubiquitous - she had no idea what had happened to me). British Rail was a wonderful organisation.
Which leads me to one final coda. Not a storm story, but an indication of what we all lost when BR was dismantled and given over to profiteers. About six years ago I was again in Euston, looking to get back to Southport, and found that all Northwest trains had been postponed for several hours. In this instance due to a suicide on the line. So we knew that it would eventually be cleared, but had little indication of when that might be. The Virgin staff were friendly enough, but had little information to act on. What they could tell me is that any thoughts of travelling by an alternative route, from Kings Cross, would cost me dearly. My Virgin ticket was of no use of other routes and I'd have to pay full whack if I decided to take another company's trains. So I waited and waited, and well over four hours later I got on an overcrowded train. There was no sense of togetherness, unless you can count mass grumbling about the way we'd been treated.
Which made me think. Had the railways been privatised when then 1990 storm hit how would I have got home? Would there have been the spirit of determination and cooperation that existed then? I doubt it, because it would be "more than my job's worth" for staff to break the rules. In BR they could make them up as they went along, because this was a public SERVICE. There are many strong economic and moral arguments for renationalising our rail system, but this is one which rarely gets a mention. A service which exists to serve the public will respond in times of emergency. Whilst the private companies will just worry about their profits. Which is best for the people?
So when will the Labour Party commit to a policy that the majority of us want? It's about time.
