How I slept through the Great Storm of 1987

In anticipation of today’s high winds let me take you back to the Great Storm of 1987.

When the 'violent extratropical cyclone' struck on the night of 15-16 October I was living in Watford in a house previously occupied by the late grandfather of a close friend.

My office was in Chiswick, west London. Outside of rush hour the Barley Mow Workspace (now the Barley Mow Centre) was a 30-minute drive from Watford so it suited me to live there while I was waiting to move into a house in Camberwell, south east London.

Earlier that year, in January, I had been forced to move out of a rented studio flat following an ‘incident’ with a Christmas pudding. (More on that later.)

Fortunately a friend lived only a mile away so for six months I shared a house with him and several others and when the lease ran out I moved to Watford for a couple of months.

But I digress.

I don’t know what time the storm reached its peak on the night of 15-16 October because I was fast asleep. In fact, I slept through the whole thing.

I remember getting back to Watford shortly after midnight but even then there was nothing to suggest anything untoward was about to happen.

It may have been windy – I can't remember – but I certainly didn't give the weather much thought.

And so, comforted by the reassuring words of TV weatherman Michael Fish ("Earlier on today, apparently, a woman rang the BBC and said she heard there was a hurricane on the way. Well, if you're watching, don't worry, there isn't!"), I went to bed and fell asleep.

The following morning I got up around 9.30 and drove to Chiswick via the M25 and M4. The weather was unremarkable and because I wasn’t listening to the radio I didn’t hear the news.

Nor was there anything on the motorway to prepare me for the devastation I found when I reached the leafy suburb of Chiswick where countless trees had been uprooted.

Some were lying on the ground, others were on top of parked cars that had been crushed by the weight. Several more were ‘resting’ at an alarming angle against the nearest house. Several roads were blocked.

It looked and felt apocalyptic.

I’ve never seen anything like it before or since and part of the shock was I had no inkling that anything unusual had happened or that there had even been a storm.

In fact, the hurricane that Michael Fish infamously assured us wouldn’t happen was reported to be 'the worst to hit South East England for three centuries, causing record damage and killing 19 people'.

So whatever happens today let's put it in perspective. Storm Eunice is no Great Storm!

PS. If you're wondering about the Christmas pudding 'incident' here's what happened. (Apologies if you've heard the story before.)

I was hosting my annual pre-Christmas lunch for friends and made the mistake of leaving the festive treat steaming in a pan while we went to the pub.

When I returned alone to check on the pudding (and the turkey, which was in the oven) I could see plumes of smoke drifting from the basement window.

Inside there was no fire but there was a fug of smoke and the walls and surfaces were covered with a zillion black particles.

I discovered that the water in which the Christmas pudding had been steaming had evaporated and the heat had burnt a large hole in the bottom of the pan. That – and the now incinerated pudding – was the cause of the smoke.

The turkey however was absolutely fine and when my guests joined me from the pub half an hour later the lunch went ahead almost as if nothing had happened.

(To this day only one person, a visiting American with whom I am still in touch, has ever mentioned it again.)

My landlord - a TV actor who lived with his family in the house above (he now lives in France) - saw it differently and when I returned after Christmas I was asked, politely, to move out so they could redecorate.

Curiously, moving back in was never an option. Instead the space was to be converted into a granny flat. Or so they said.

Here ends the lesson on leaving Christmas puddings to steam unattended.