The hype of the current period of wet and stormy weather is quite remarkable, but my perception is that the reality is rather more prosaic than the doommongers would have us believe. Some homes have been flooded; some stormwatchers have tragically lost their lives. But armageddon it most certainly is not.
And underlining this point, reader Martyn points us to the tale of the great storm of 1703, told at the time by Daniel Defoe and retold in this article in History Today.
The storm struck on a Wednesday evening and in London Daniel Defoe had a narrow escape in the street when part of a nearby house fell down. On the Friday, the 26th, the wind began to blow even harder and when he checked his barometer, he found the mercury sunk lower than he had ever seen it. After midnight the gale swelled to such force that it was almost impossible to sleep. The noise of the chimneys of neighbouring houses coming down made the family fear that their own solid brick house might collapse on their heads. But when they opened the door to escape into the garden, they saw tiles hurtling through the air, some travelling thirty or forty yards and then driven eight inches deep into the ground. The Defoes decided to stay inside and trust in God’s providence.