what a glorious feeling!
july 2007
part one
OH. MY. GOD. what a day monday 25 june was.
like something from a film, or a war, or the coming of the apocalypse.
a lot of people went through a lot worse, but this is my story…
i got up early to go to the hospital for a barrage of (routine, don’t worry!) blood tests. it was raining heavily when we left the house at 8.20, but that was nothing new – it had hardly stopped raining ALL JUNE. the traffic was pretty heavy, but it was rush hour, so that was nothing new either.
after the hospital, we decided to go to starbucks. neither of us had eaten – i’d fasted for the tests and my mum hadn’t found time – so we had a snack and a drink and a chat, and then my mum left me typing happily on my alphasmart and went home to shower and go to work. ironically, she works just a couple of streets away from that branch of starbucks, a fact that comes into play later in the story…
so, i type away happily, then do a bit of reading until about 1-1.30, when I decide to leave and get the bus home, doing a little shopping on the way.
i buy two bags (a rucksack and a smaller shoulder bag – amazed that i find what i’m looking for, i’m feeling pretty happy with myself. i also buy some snazzy socks.) then i realise i’ve missed the quarter to 3 bus so dawdle for a bit before heading to the bus stop for 3.10 to await the next one. by this time, the rain has begun to seep into my only pair of shoes: my red suede trainers. my socks are feeling a bit damp and i’m tired, so i huddle under the bus shelter with about fifteen other people, and look forward to getting home, getting changed, and relaxing. and i wait. and wait.
and the bus doesn’t come. then a bus does come – but it’s not going where i need to go. i wait some more. people are wondering out loud if the buses are still running – no-one knows. i decide to wait until my mum leaves work and get a lift home with her. but i need to ring her, especially if the weather means she’s thinking of leaving early. i begin the long uphill trek back into the centre of town, hoping to find a payphone as i have very little credit on my mobile phone. i could top it up except my registered credit card expired and i don’t know how to register the new one. i find 2 payphones close together: one isn’t working, one only takes credit cards. i slam the receiver of the second one down in disgust. a woman runs past, hitting me on the head with her umbrella.
“IDIOT!” i scream… once she’s miles away.
with the 77p i have remaining on my mobile, i call my mum but she’s not there, so i leave a brink-of-tears message for her to call me back then text her to the same effect and go and collapse on a chair in the nearest place with seats (a bank; not mine) and i wait.
it’s now 5 to 4 and i take stock: my shoes and socks are soaked through, as are my trousers from ankle to knee. my corduroy coat is sopping wet. my hair is dishevelled. my legs, arms, feet and back ache, my legs feel so wobbly they might give way any second. i’m exhausted, i need the toilet and i have no way to get home.
after what seems like ages but is probably only about seven minutes, my mum phones me back. i outline the situation and suggest she might want to leave work early as traffic (hahaha) “might be bad later” (hahahahahaha). she suggests we meet up at starbucks at around 5, and i plan to catch the tram up there. i sidle into mcdonald’s next door, use the disabled toilet and fuel up: i order a small milkshake and fries (if someone suggested i eat healthy at this point, it would not have been welcome advice). i read a magazine and get a little strength back, but my relief is mitigated somewhat by the discomfort of soaking wet shoes and socks. i head for the tram stop at 4.40. the platform is full of enough people to fill three trams, and without one in sight i know walking was the best option (plus, waiting around in the rain some more does NOT appeal). i trudge uphill, feeling the water slop about inside my SOCKS with every step.
i become more breathless, tired and grumpy with each step, and two more people ram into me with umbrellas. i’m so tired and fed up i want to cry or scream, or both. as i reach the top of the pedestrian walkway i notice the traffic: it’s totally gridlocked. i walk straight across four busy city centre roads without needing to wait for the traffic lights – they mean nothing anymore. no-one can move.
i wonder how we’ll get home, and figure the best tactic might be to stay in town until later in the evening, when it might be easier to leave. i still don’t understand the magnitude of the weather. it’s still raining and main thoroughfares have been totally flooded but i’m blind to this as i finally enter starbucks a few minutes after 5. i have a lemon/lime water with ice, and enjoy sitting down. after twenty-five minutes my mum still hasn’t turned up and i wonder if traffic is so bad she can’t get to me. i manage to top up my mobile with credit even though my card has expired, and i ring her. she’s at the other starbucks, miles away! and my starbucks is about to close.
we hatch another plan: we’ll meet at pizza express two doors down (if it’s open) and have a meal and chill out there. i walk two doors down: hallelujah, it’s open, with no signs of imminent closure. i bag a table. fearing pneumonia or at least a nasty cold if i spend any more time in my wet clothes, i take off my coat and shoes and socks. i roll up my trouser legs and feel glad that i painted my toenails firecracker red a couple of weeks ago for my friend’s wedding. i have a drink, and wait for my mum. ten minutes later, she turns up, looking buffeted by the wind and rain, but cheerful. i remember i’ve got some new socks in my bag, and i put them on. ahhhhh.
we order; we eat; we chat. things seem to be looking up. if restaurants are open things can’t be so apocalyptic after all, can they? after a leisurely meal, we leave at about 7.55 and head to the car a couple of minutes away. already we can see that the roads in the immediate vicinity are empty, so much traffic has been cleared we’re convinced our journey home will be smooth sailing. (ok, sailing is probably not the right word…)
we drive home along our usual route, past my mum’s work and… oh.
there’s a bit more traffic at the lights than is usual for this time of day, but that’s understandable given the earlier girdlock. we continue to the roundabout and…
oh my god. it’s totally jammed. it takes us several minutes to get into the right lane, and then – we stop. and then we start up again, and as we’re pushing forwards, a van driven by one of our local council’s contractors tries to push in front. my mum beeps her horn and we shout at him. he turns back, winds his window down. and shouts:
“WHAT DO WANT ME TO F****** DO? I’VE BEEN F****** SAT HERE FOR FOUR HOURS! F*** OFF!” he cries. thanks, council – good choice.
i lock the doors, feeling nervous. my mum’s still gesticulating at him. FOUR HOURS? did he really just say that? that’s our confirmation that we’re not going to be going anywhere fast. or indeed, at all. we’ve completely stagnated and all we can see for miles down the road is car after car after car. and of course, all this time, the rain is coming down in torrential waves. my wet shoes start to seep into my new dry socks and my wet coat is making me shiver, but i’m even colder without it.
we turn on the local radio for news. we hear words we can’t quite comprehend in their context: “winched to safety”; “emergency shelters”; “RAF”; “major flooding”. wow. this is scarier and more serious than we thought. we’re sitting there taking it all in when we hear a siren and coming up the road in the opposite (traffic-free) direction we see a massive police van, another van saying “underwater search and rescue team” and an RAF van holding a boat zip past. wow.
and so we sit. and sit. and sit. and i shiver. and we hear more stories on the radio of people being stuck in buildings, and old people stranded at bus stops, and people walking for hours to get home. and we see people walking past the rows of static traffic – goodness knows how far they have walked already and how far they have to go. we see the occasional empty tram glide past and the even more occasional bus. we sing along to the songs on the radio. we start to need the toilet.
after about two and a half hours, we begin to move forward, and after another half an hour, we reach the traffic lights and have to choose which way to go. forward looks like a bad idea, left is a mystery. we try left. the road is empty. we go forward, heading for home, but are stopped by a diversion manned by the police. we go down a side road and see a massive traffic jam. we’re able to bypass it but the toilet situation is becoming desperate. it’s ten to 11 now, and i’ve been begging my mum to stop at a pub. she thinks i’ve been joking. NO i’m not joking! we have a bitter exchange of words. we drive to one pub and it’s shut. we drive to another and at five to 11 dash inside. it’s like a small but friendly party, with a few people playing pool, some chatting, and everyone looking at scenes of the flooding on the BBC. i don’t want to look; that can wait until we finally get home. we run into the toilets, use them, and leave. then we get stuck in traffic at the lights for another half an hour. then it’s a clear run home, finally, thankfully. i can’t wait to change, have a hot drink, watch TV, put on my electric blanket, read a little and then fall asleep.
at 11.40 we roll up to the house. our neighbours are all in bed. we unlock the door and turn on the light.
nothing.
we try another light. nope.
TV? electric blanket? kettle? heating? oven? fridge? microwave?
no, no, no, no, no, no, no.
“we’ve got loads of candles!” my mum cries triumphantly.
“and any matches?”
“oh… bugger.”
we each take a torch, and get ready for bed. i put on clean socks, pyjamas, a jumper and dressing gown and climb into bed, shivering. i try to read a bit of a magazine by torchlight. i wonder how i’ll feel the next day after such an exhausting adventure.
i fall asleep.
i spend the next day in bed, exhausted, experiencing terrible muscle pain all over my body, eating whatever seems safe from the fridge, and listening to the local radio. at 9PM, our electricity is restored but it’s on and off all week – more off than on for long stretches.
then finally it’s back for good, and my muscle pains fade and the exhaustion eases and the only reminder of the flooding is the diverted traffic past the top of our street.
which i guess means that we were lucky.
