I thought the world had ended

I thought the world had ended – honestly, I really thought Armageddon had happened. This was in the days before mobile phones and the internet – I did have a phone, a landline, and I think after I had got over the almost heart-stopping shock, and properly taken in what the BBC news was telling me, (Nicholas Witchell, actually) I realised that although a dreadful event had taken place, it was not really the end of the world. I won’t ever forget my feelings, my shock, horror and fear of those fifteen or so minutes.

I was living alone in a house I had come to hate, in a period of my life which was lonely, unhappy and hard, and I wandered downstairs, made a cup of tea and turned on the BBC news. It was Friday, 16th October, 1987 – which may give a clue what this frightening and dreadful event was. My first thoughts were for my dad and my sister, living two hundred miles south, were they safe, were they alright? I can’t remember but I must have phoned home – but were the telephone lines down? I don’t recall. I was living in Oldham at the time, and in the north we were unaffected by the disaster which was happening in the south.

I had turned on the TV and there was Nicholas, in a dimly lit studio, looking shocked and severe and almost frightened. There was a film of buildings destroyed, woodland laid flat, big things blown  away, vehicles overturned, boats and ships thrown up onto the shore, whole swathes of devastation, and twenty-two poor souls lost their lives.

The great storm of 1987 was a violent extratropical cyclone that occurred on the night of 15–16 October, with hurricane-force winds causing casualties in the United Kingdom, France, and the Channel Islands as a severe depression in the Bay of Biscay moved northeast. Among the most damaged areas were Greater London, Kent, the East Anglian coast, the Home Counties, the west of Brittany, and the Cotentin Peninsula of Normandy, all of which weathered gusts typically with a return period of 1 in 200 years.
Forests, parks, roads, and railways were strewn with fallen trees and schools were closed. The British National Grid suffered heavy damage, leaving thousands without power. At least 22 people were killed in England and France.The highest measured gust of 135 miles per hour; 217 kilometres per hour (117 kn) was recorded at Pointe Du Roc, Granville, France and the highest gust in the UK of 120 mph; 190 km/h (100 kn) was recorded at Shoreham, West Sussex. The storm has been termed a weather bomb due to its rapid development.

Everyone must have been shocked, horrified and frightened, but how many others really thought, as I did that the world was ending? Why did I have this extreme reaction, this almost overwhelming fear? I grew up in the 50’s – although only a young child, I was aware of the horrors of the war which had ended in 1945 – my dad had served for seven years and had seen some dreadful things. There was “the shadow of the bomb” hanging over us, and we watched films in the 60’s instructing us on what to do in case of a nuclear attack – stupid, useless instructions on how to protect ourselves when “the bomb dropped”.  As a young child, there had been air-raid practices, where the local air-raid sirens would sound, and we had to sit under our desks – just so we knew what to do when the event happened. Later there was the Cuban missile crisis, the Six-Day War (a classmate sat sobbing, terrified that WW3 was about to fall upon us) and of course other world-dangers which caused great anxiety.

So when I turned on the TV and the south of England – including where my family was, seemed to have suffered a catastrophic event, I was truly alarmed and terrified. Now we are awaiting the arrival of Storm Ciarán, and although it seems from what the forecast says the worst of it might sweep south of us, the rain is lashing my window, and although it is closed I can hear the roaring wind. We’re fortunate here, I think and trust, compared to the counties south of us, but I shall be thinking of those who have it raging round them, and hope all keep safe.