Thursday 31st January 2013

As you may have noticed, I am trying to write a bit more this year. And so, I believe, this is my 22nd blog of the year. Why? I don’t know. I guess when I look at years gone by, sometimes there are gaps of up to 10 days between posts. And I know if I don’t write for a few days what happened the day before gets forgotten. Not that I am saying I am missing writing something earth-shattering that is going to change your life, nor do I have any insight into the human condition. No, it just a window into our life, and my trials and tribulations in the world of wind turbines.

Here’s something. I thought I was the only person with my name, but there is a second. He lives in Sussex or somewhere like that, and apart from tweeting he blogs too. So, yesterday I read his blog, and turned out he had a bad year, was made redundant and being messed around with various job agencies. This dragged on for a year, and reading his words I realised how easy it could have been me. He has not written since November when he was talking about depression; needless to say I hope he did find work and is in a happier place. I guess it shows how close we are to having our lives turned upside down by a bean-counter somewhere up the management chain who for no reason sees us as an un-necessary expense that should be terminated.

In fact, our big financial announcement is due next week; 2012’s Q4 results and where we are for the new year. Every announcement brings the need for more redundancies and more changes. I guess this year will be little different. My new boss has been unavailable all week, so is it all linked, or not? Whatever happens, we will roll with the punches and survive to fight another day.

60 years ago today, this very evening, a massive depression coupled with a strong north wind and an exceptionally high tide joined together to cause the worst floods in Eastern England all the way to Kent and in Holland. 1836 were killed in Holland, 307 in England, 28 in Belgium and 19 in Scotland. It was a thing of legend when I was growing up, those that lived through it told of their stories of escapes. My English teacher got home by walking over the railway bridge as the road bridge in Oulton road was under water. My Dad, who was 14 years old, kept a great scrapbook which I was unable to find when I was last at my Mum’s. I shall look when I go up next time, if I can. I guess the reason for all this looking back is that the lessons of the past are easily forgotten, money is cut from the repair or building of sea defences, the decades go by and no flooding happens, so we forget. And in the meantime, we build more and more houses in low-lying areas and flood plains and more and more houses get flooded more and more often.