Today was Joe’s bithrday. Amazingly, I seem to as of today be the parent of a teenager. Yet it was a win-win situation for him, because almost the first thing that happened today was that we got the phone call telling us it was a snow day, thus a day off school. But he didn’t lie around doing nothing — I took him into Manchester instead, where it was just as revoltingly snowy.
Well… there’s blossom. You can see it. But that’s the bloody British weather for you. The snow was all gone by lunchtime.
Still, I am not complaining about this photographically. This is the first picture I’ve taken in ages that I really like: one where I knew as soon as I pressed the shutter that it would be today’s pick.
With a whole day spent at home working online, it was left to the sky to entertain. This looks like a hole in the space-time continuum has opened up above the houses of Heptonstall Road. Or possibly just a break in the clouds near the setting sun.
A somewhat strange day. Apocalyptic weather forecasts led to most of Bergen shutting down at lunchtime; my day’s work at Høgskolen i Bergen was truncated as a result, and it was at the point of termination that I took this picture, which doesn’t quite capture how foul it was here, though I like the greyness of it (I knocked down the saturation a bit, but only a bit). Shortly after this KLM then cancelled my flight home, which explains why I’m still here and won’t be home until tomorrow night, 24 hours after originally scheduled.
Yet in the end the afternoon’s weather in the city, while poor, was certainly no worse than it often can be here. I originally got quite angry about this, feeling that everyone could have done with a little less panic. However, it seems that the coastal mountains may have protected the city somewhat. Apparently areas futher north today had the strongest winds ever recorded in Norway. But hey, I’m still allowed to be pissed off that I didn’t make it home (quite a few flights happily left Flesland airport), particularly on a Friday night. So another day in Norway tomorrow, then. So be it.
I remain grateful for the fact that I have a job flexible enough to allow me to bring my weekend forward a day and get out on a walk on a Friday. However, I wasn’t out basking in the sunshine or anything. This was a severe-weather walk, as rough as anything I’ve ever done, as evidenced by the spindrift seen here. Heron Pike sits between the lakes of Grasmere, Rydal Water and (pictured) Windermere. More photos from this walk on my other blog when I get round to it, but that’ll be tomorrow now.
I haven’t felt like taking many pictures over these last three days. Media coverage of natural disasters encourages us to see the flood just as a spectacle, a series of dramatic images, and all these things we do on social media are part of it. Voyeuristic citizen journalism is little different from the voyeuristic corporate kind. I wish I had something else to document, though.
This to me is the saddest sight; virtually every house and business in the town centre now has these piles of stock and/or furniture outside on the pavements, waiting to be cleared.
UK Prime Minister David Cameron today announced that he would ‘do all he could’ to help the victims of flooding across the north of England.
In June this year, his government’s Climate Change Committee warned that previously unprecedented weather events would become more common and that the UK state was not doing enough to protect its citizens from flooding. In October 2015 Cameron’s government finally responded to this, by announcing that a new flood defense and prevention strategy was “not appropriate” at this time.
In December, two days after the signing of a new international agreement in Paris, aimed at alleviating climate change, UK Chancellor George Osborne slashed all subsidies for renewable energy, while retaining them both for fracking, and for the burning of peat and heather on the moors of northern England, a land ‘management’ strategy that greatly increases run-off of water into the valleys during rain storms.
The gentleman pictured here is the owner of Paradise, a successful and long-established take-away joint in Hebden Bridge. He has just lost £30,000 worth of kitchen equipment from his business; even if he can reopen again he will have to be closed for many weeks. He was uninsured for this, not through neglect, but because the free market in insurance would not deign to cover him or other businesses in Hebden Bridge after the 2012 floods.
Calder Valley has a Conservative Member of Parliament, Craig Whittaker. His email address is craig.whittaker.mp@parliament.uk and his Twitter handle is @CWhittakerMP. I just thought I would mention these things.
Up until this morning 2015’s had been an entirely agreeable Christmas filled with friends and family old and new, much good cheer and sociability, etc. etc.
This morning things took a definite turn for the worse in the patch of England that lies, more or less, between Manchester, Leeds and Lancaster. Huge amounts of rain have turned much of this region into what you see here. We were scheduled to drive from my sister’s in Sabden to Clare’s parents in Morecambe this morning, and made it, despite some very damp moments on the road and views over scenes such as this. But we were among the luckier ones. Hebden Bridge and the whole Calder Valley, from Walsden down to Mytholmroyd, was today under over a metre (3.3 feet) of water, leading to terrifying scenes like this one, in Mytholmroyd. I do not even want to think about the impact this is going to have on my home town. In 2012 after the last (twin) floods hit several much-loved establishments were closed for months, and today’s floods were far worse. As this photo shows, the shops on the main street were deluged this morning.
The village of Whalley, which has appeared once before on this blog and was hit by flooding a couple of weeks ago, was also devastated again today. The shot I choose to epitomise this very shitty day is one taken as we tried to negotiate our way from Sabden past Whalley, on the A59 road which bypasses the village, and crosses the River Calder at this point (note: this is not the Calder that runs through Hebden Bridge, but the Lancashire river of the same name; in the first version of this post I misidentified it). As you can see the river has become a literal lake, and many houses in Whalley were evacuated today as a result. Nor do I think the sheep pictured here (lower left) have a great deal longer to live. As far as I know no human lives have been lost in the region today, but it is a frankly terrible situation, that at the moment I do not wish to dwell on very much.
It is all very well to blame capricious nature for this crap, but there are also decisions — to do with land use, water management, pollution — that have been deliberately made over the last couple of centuries of human existence and which are exacerbating natural weather events like this. Today the consequences of these decisions really hit home. I am sure you will see more of this over the next few days, but we have to get home first.
Brrr! Definitely the coldest day of the winter so far; it is becoming increasingly hard to kid ourselves we are still in ‘autumn’.
Clearing, yes — but it had still dumped plenty of rain on us before doing so, and it had siblings on the way. Come take some of our weather, please. We have lots to spare.
Being 42 