You only know how good a product is when you have to use it in extreme circumstances. Most products you use straightaway, and you get some reassurance. Some…some, you hope never to have to use.
It was ten years ago that I—or, I should say—the company of which I am the major shareholder—bought rubber-covered, steel-framed flood barriers to protect six roller-shutter doors and seven other entrances and fire exits. We also bought vent-guards for the air bricks and WAR (water and rodent) valves for the water pipes, to prevent the backflow of sewage.
It reduced our insurance premiums and it looked good on the company’s risk register. My business needed this location. The road networks, the availability of skilled staff, the size of the factory and its facilities, were all perfect. The only problem was the river. Oh, it’s supposedly managed with weirs, gates and sluices, but that is never enough these days. I knew that a flood would happen, sooner or later. But I also knew that I could buy flood protection from a reputable UK supplier. And now…the test has come.
I’ve sent everybody home. But I need to be here. This is my responsibility. These precious machine tools that craft life-saving surgical implants must be back up and running as soon as possible. I would hate myself so much if…
I have batteries, sandwiches, bottled water. I’ll be OK. Outside, the storm bellows like a bull on steroids. The frothing river has now claimed the towpath and the outdoor eating area that the staff enjoy in the summer. The wind is twisting trees out of the ground. One big evergreen crashes on to the car park, shaking the building, and me. I wonder what the river’s flow rate is at the moment? Two hundred tonnes per second, perhaps? Brown sludge is now lapping at the flood barriers, which were erected in just a few minutes, as the manufacturer had promised. So, my factory is now an island.
Flood barriers can only be two and half feet high. If the water gets higher than that, the pressure will damage the structure of the building. Will they hold out? The rain still sounds like buckets of gravel being thrown relentlessly at the windows.
I feel lonely. When was it that I was last on my own like this? I’m surrounded by colleagues all day long and I go home to a house full of my lovely, exuberant family. I’ve got the phone, of course. People know that I’m here. The storm will pass. But I’m starting to feel a bit stupid. The emergency services said “evacuate”.
So far, the factory floor has stayed dry. But who knows what the night will bring? I daren’t sleep. There is something calling me that has never called me before. I feel that I shouldn’t give in to it, because it makes me a hypocrite. But I can’t stop myself. I have to pray.
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Photo: The River Avon in Bath
