Ten Days,
reflecting on the floods of July 2007

Summer 2007 in Gloucestershire was dominated by the floods and the ensuing crisis. The floods led to the biggest peacetime emergency this country has ever experienced, and Ten Days was our creative response. The title Ten Days refers to the length of the Literature Festival and the length of time the situation was headline news.

We contacted a wide range of people who had been caught up in the crisis - local heroes, residents, councillors and emergency services - and local poet and writer Brenda Read-Brown visited them to hear their accounts of that extraordinary time. She listened to their stories of heroic rescues, outstanding courage and community camaraderie and used their words as the basis for a wonderful collection of 28 poems and pieces of writing.

Ten of the poems were broadcast on BBC Radio Gloucestershire over the course of the Festival, and the poems were displayed, along with some amazing photographs, in both the writers' room and a public space at the Festival. The displays attracted an overwhelmingly enthusiastic response; from top authors to members of the public, Ten Days was a hot topic.

This project was a great success. Participants benefited from the opportunity to reflect on their experiences; the artistic quality of the work produced was of a very high standard; and the work reached a wide audience.

Comments from participants and audience include:

'The poem is excellent, thank you.'

'It was a privilege and a real pleasure to have been part of this.'

'I thought the poem was superb and loved the way you blended it all together. It's very flattering for us all and a credit to you to hear that people are moved by it.'

'I love the poems. Up beat, quirky and fun.'

'I'm sure all those who shared their more distressing experiences will have taken comfort from talking about them to you. Glad to have had the opportunity to share in this project.'

Ten Days was also featured on BBC Gloucestershire

---

Pittville Pump Room in Cheltenham was used as a rescue centre on the first night of the floods - which coincided with their final Cheltenham Music Festival concert.

The violins played on

There was no iceberg, and no dancing,
And the Pump Room didn't sink,
But the violins played on. We didn't think
Of stopping
The Festival's last concert,
Although the rain was dropping
Like nothing I have ever seen -
The winnings from a fruit machine,
A cascade of disappearing money.
At first, standing outside, it seemed quite funny,
To get wetter, and wetter and still wetter, But then the penny dropped:
The weather wasn't getting better.

The lake was up over the road.
The cars had slowed, then been abandoned.
We were high and dry, above a moat,
But I couldn't help but feel
That it all seemed quite surreal
As the violins played on and on, until the final note;
And soaked survivors struggled to our music-loving lifeboat.
They stood, bewildered and bedraggled,
A raggle-taggle crew,
And no-one really knew just what to do -
So we got out all the crockery
And served shocked people cups of tea;
And noted all their names,
Families and foreigners - disaster hits them all the same.
The Red Cross brought clothing, blankets, games;
Sainsbury's sent food.

They all seemed quite subdued,
Chatting to make the time go by;
Quietly drinking, politely eating;
Focusing on getting dry -
We'd turned on all the heating.
And later - well it was a shambles:
Sleeping people everywhere -
The floor, the chairs, the dressing rooms upstairs,
All littered with unwitting and unwilling visitors,
Snoring through the echoes of the concerts of the past.

Of course, it didn't last.
By eleven the next morning every one of them had gone,
But in my mind, the violins played on.

---

Brynteg Books supplies mostly educational books to schools. They have been flooded four times in ten years. Many members of the company came into work the weekend after the flood to help clear up, and in only a few days they were trading, almost as normal.

Salvage

It doesn't come knocking at the door,
But seeps, in silence, under walls; stains the floor
With the eerie alien menace of a creature
From a bad B-movie feature.
But hey - we'd seen it all before,
This repressive totalitarian force,
Sent, of course, to destroy our books,
Bent on eating knowledge,
Defeating education.
We knew the score;
Smug masters (and mistresses) of the situation,
We thought the Brynteg ship would ride the storm -
Mere floods aren't frightening, like fire.
"All hands on deck!"
We moved thousands of books up higher -
Harry Potter, AQA Psychology, and Shrek -
This was no time for discrimination.

Job done - by one. Racked, and stacked.
But then came the two-point attack!
As if the hills had tipped their load -
A wall of water crossed the road;
The river banks sank out of sight, ashamed,
As if they thought they might be blamed for failing,
And the current tugged around our knees.
No use baling -
The Jolly Brynteg was no longer sailing.
Powerless, we abandoned ship.

And nature, left alone, let rip
Like a giant child -
Smashing shelving, trashing tables,
Dumping desks and cutting cables,
And wild with frustration, because it could not read,
It peed all over books,
Till all was soaked and sodden.
But, as a child, it wasn't vicious -
Rather wanton, or capricious, lacking understanding;
Some things were saved, perhaps forgotten:

A Winnie-the-Pooh mug quite untouched,
And the wooden coat stand standing
In its customary place.
We watched it on CCTV,
Confounded and dumbfounded by all that we could see;
And as quickly as it came, it went away,
As if someone had pulled a plug -
You could almost hear it glug - glug - glug
As it swirled and bubbled into drains.

Next day, in tears, we looked on the remains,
Speechless, staring; not despairing,
But downhearted;
New-purchased brooms discarded,
Useless against such mess.
When with sudden unexpected chivalry,
The cavalry came (a farmer with his JCB)
And, like the water had before,
Thundered through the shattered store,
And swept the junk out through the door.
Pre-booked industrial cleaners arrived,
And we were shipshape, tidy, dry;
Back in business; trading;
With nothing but a watermark six feet high
And twenty thousand books, marinading
In the yard - a real pulp mountain
That took four full days to clear.

And if the waters come again next year?
Well, now we will know just what to expect.
We've learned - from life, not books - to pay nature due respect.

---

Malcolm and Mandy Ward live in Longford, an area of Gloucester which was very badly flooded; they rescued 60 people from their houses using Malcolm's boat.

Malcolm's story

I once brought a two-and-a-half-ton engine from Tintagel for my tank. I was running a pub at the time, and I'd got this World War 2 tank on the grass outside, and I thought it would be fun to make it go. My van could only carry a ton, really, so it was a bit of a difficult journey - but that's just the sort of outrageous thing I do.

So, it's no surprise really that on the Monday morning, I said to Mandy, "I'm taking the boat out." I knew the water would be high - I didn't even bother to look - but to this day I don't really know why I decided to do it.

That was at about 8:30 in the morning. Almost immediately, Mark the policeman asked if I'd help get an old lady out of her house. The water was about 2' 6" deep, and she was well into her eighties, and well stuck. And so I started rescuing people. I never set out to do it; I'm no hero or anything.

After a while Mandy came out to help. I'll never forget the look on her face when the water first reached her gusset - it was so cold! She was wearing a light grey tracksuit, but pretty soon it was mostly dark grey - she was soaked right up to her boobies; the track suit acted like a wick and drew the water up. Me, I was in dark things with high- vis stripes everywhere, and a bright orange life jacket; and of course a cap - well, it was raining! It must have looked quite strange, though, because the cap had a picture of an oasis on it. Water in a desert - the last thing we needed at the time.

We got all sorts of people out. One older lady had to have a fireman's lift, and blow me if we didn't have to go back in to her house and give her two dogs fireman's lifts as well. One family asked me to come back at 3:30, and then they came out with all their suitcases, ready to go off on holiday. At one point, I had 9 kids in the boat, with their parents walking alongside, thigh-deep. All sorts. Several people brought cans of petrol for me - I had two and a half gallons altogether.

By 4:30 I was cold and shivering and had no energy left. I'd rescued 60 people, all told, and I'd worn a hole in the bottom of the boat. I didn't realise this at first, but it seemed really sluggish when I took a group of journalists out. I thought it was just that they were fat journalists, but no - one of the hulls (it's a canary-yellow catamaran) had a hole in it 18" long. I got it mended ok that night.

I'll never forget the silence; an eerie silence - no traffic noise at all, when usually there's cars and lorries going up and down. And the gratitude - people were so thankful. And the good-neighbourliness. The landlady of the local pub left drinks on the table outside, so you could just help yourself to whatever was open. And a couple down the road were bringing cups of tea out, and everyone had the time to stop and chat. It's a shame we can't be like that all the time.

Afterwards, there was a stink everywhere, like rotting vegetation, and it hasn't gone yet - and now we have a problem with mosquitoes. My allotment suffered. It was the first under and the last dry, and now all the veggies have rotted. The potatoes just squelch, the plums all dropped as the waters rose, and if you dig under the carrot tops, there's just a carrot-shaped hole in the ground, faintly tinged with orange.

I'm used to floods. I was brought up in Norton and we'd get flooded every year, but I've never done anything like this before. It was very rewarding, but very sad - and very, very cold!

The next day I took the boat out again - but this time I just went flat out round the field, for fun.

Mandy's story

It was amazing, how appreciative people were. A mum asked me to take her two boys to their gran, and I asked what she looked like, how would I know her. "She's a mini-me!" she said - and she was - but later on, the mum came to thank us not just for rescuing the boys but for taking care that they went to the right place.

And it's true that when you're put to the test, you've got tremendous strength; it's really weird. Mind you, I drew the line at the 16-stone man who didn't want to get his feet wet, and asked me to carry him! I'm only 9 stone.

But it was all a bit strange and emotional for me. I had a family funeral to go to that afternoon - my niece - and it was a difficult decision: should we go to the funeral, or keep on rescuing people? In the end, Malcolm stayed and I went. Rescuing people had taken my mind off it a bit, but during the funeral, I kept thinking, "My right hand's not here." But Malcolm did good things that day, and I'm proud of him.

---

Many people mentioned similarities between the flood crisis and how they imagined a war situation. These two poems were inspired by conversations with the manager of the Roses Theatre in Tewkesbury, and an assistant manager at Tenpin bowling alley in Gloucester.

War zone

I've seen the films; I know the score;
Tewkesbury was a town at war.
Helicopters flying overhead,
Rumours that some men were dead;
An edginess you felt at nights;
Arguments turning into fights;
Sirens with the sound of blood;
Tensions rising with the flood;
Cops guarding - a restricted zone.
Was it just me? Was I alone
In seeing this as like a war?
I didn't know Tewkesbury any more.

Blitzed

Was this what it was like in the blitz?
We were bombed out by water,
Covering the road, waist deep;
People stuck, nowhere to sleep,
So forced to stay and dally
In the Tenpin bowling alley.
I'd worked a long shift anyway,
But there was no choice but to stay
And help. Twelve French students didn't play
In the kids' area, but dozed;
A Canadian couple with a baby chose
Not to confer in the conference room, but slept;
A party of businessmen kept
Trying bribery to get cider - tempting, but I still said no
To the offer of £60 for a bottle of Strongbow.
Some teenagers en route to a festival were stranded.
And everyone, all different, landed
Together by chance, stayed cheerful, didn't complain.
And, no, I wouldn't want to go through it all again -
Twenty-eight hours non-stop,
Working until finally I dropped -
But it's an experience I wouldn't have missed:
Knowing what it might have been like in the Blitz.

---

Charles and Camilla visited Priors Park in Tewkesbury. Some of the staff at the Neighbourhood Project were rather surprised at their own reactions to the event.

Royalist

At first, everyone was acting cool.
They're just like other people,
Nothing special, after all.
But later, as the day went by,
Clothes were straightened, make-up was applied,
The kitchen tidied; questions asked:
"Is it ma'am as in ham, or ma'am as in harm?"

We couldn't focus properly on tasks
That needed to be done;
Hid away copies of OK! and the Sun.
"If you're nervous, think of them with nothing on,"
Somebody said - not from perversity or vice;
Apparently it's considered good advice.
But anyway, it went unheeded, quite unneeded,
For suddenly, the royal pair were here.
Prince Charles and Camilla, come to call -
The handshakes firm, the smiles sincere;
But strangely, they seemed very small:
She dainty, in green frock and flowered shawl,
Charles slight, and suited, formal wear.

We were bewitched. They seemed to care,
Asked questions, listened, understood,
Were real. It seemed that anyone could
Approach; it seemed they were quite unprotected.
And when they left, she turned right round
To wave, the window wound right down.

Till then I'd thought that leaders ought to be elected,
And I don't believe that anyone deserves curtsey or bow,
But, like everyone who was here that day,
I am a royalist now.

---

Priors Park in Tewkesbury was badly hit by the floods. Even so, many local residents made the best of a bad situation.

Priors Park

When the power went off in Priors Park
The dark was defeated by candles that glimmered
On people all seated at tables outside, drinking wine,
While under the water the car roofs shimmered.

When the taps were turned off in Priors Park,
A human conveyor belt lifted and carried and trolleyed and ferried,
To make sure that everyone had enough water,
While around it was lying knee-deep.

When the food ran out in Priors Park,
Nobody cheated, just took what they needed
Of truckloads from Tesco and a Birmingham baker
Who'd sent crusty loaves, fresh and warm.

And when the floods went,
The Priors Park people were proud to have weathered the storm.

---

The emergency services, of course, worked magnificently throughout the disaster. The first piece is from RAF helicopter winchman Sergeant Andrew Dixon; the second gives a glimpse of the atmosphere during the fight to save Walham electricity substation.

My first disaster

We see a lot from a helicopter, but this was like nothing I had ever seen before - cars floating like boats and boats stuck in trees, the motorway just a long car park. And all the landmarks we use for navigation had gone. In the end we got up from Bristol Channel by following rivers, rivers wider than fields.

Most of the urgent rescue work had been done. We were hovering over houses where people had chosen to stay, waiting for the thumbs up to show they were ok.

But then we were called to a block of flats right by the river. Some people needed to be taken out of the first floor - the ground floor was already completely submerged.

Now, I've been in the RAF for ten years, but I'm only two months out of training as a winchman, and the training was all to do with trawlers and cliff faces, not houses. This was my first disaster. But we went through everything properly. I got in the bosun's chair, with the rescue strops and the highline, the helmet and radio and everything, and we went through the briefing.

And then I looked out. There were crowds of people on a bridge, looking at us, and, even worse, there were television news crews - the BBC and Sky. My first real rescue, and the world was watching me. I've got to get this right, I thought.

And down I went, legs over the balcony railing, and into the front room of the flat. They didn't really know what to do with me - there they were, with their nice carpets and nice furniture, and me in my greasy suit, meant for standing on trawlers in. But anyway, I got the people out, one by one, into the rescue strops and winched up to the aircraft. Then it was my turn, with nothing to stabilise me, and of course I didn't go up straight as I'd have liked to. I had a bit of a swing towards a tree.

And that was it, really. All that training, put into use just because it had been raining.

Walham substation

The forces may be named,
Disguised, legitimised;
But the rush and whoosh of water's still untamed
When pumped through pipes;
Electricity crackles through the night,
And ghostly fighters scarred by high-vis stripes
Can only guard the gates
And not control.
And if the two are once allowed to mate,
Their bastard child will have a killer's soul.

---

Paul and April Wallis run Ye Olde Black Bear pub in Tewkesbury, and spent days preparing and giving food away. The second piece reminds us that the floods did have fatal consequences.

Fed up with drink

It's the first time I can ever say I was fed up with drink. I think we were all fed up with each other, being stuck in here together the whole time. Although here were moments of fun, to tell the truth - fishing from the terrace in the garden, and the sound of children laughing on the bouncy castle, when they could get the adults off, that is. Having to go outside with their feet in the water was a bit of a deterrent for the smokers, though.

But before that it was hard work. We cooked all the food we had - bacon butties and early morning tea for the police who'd been on duty all night; chips in popcorn buckets for the rescue services to take away; the biggest mixed grills you've ever seen, for anyone who needed it. We couldn't wash up so we went through every plate we had.

In between the cooking, the people over the road needed a hand - lifting sandbags, shifting furniture - but the floods were too much for us, despite everyone working together.

What really brought it home to me was, early on, seeing a telegraph pole come under the bridge, then forced up on end so it was upright, like a caber. And the crowds of vacant people congregated on the bridge, watching our garden tables floating, and just looking at the water.

And before that was the first night - we'd filled all our spare beds and the living room sofa, and the people left over stretched out on benches and seats in the bar. It was better there than spending the night in the car.

When the floods went down, there was, everywhere, a silt and dead fish stink. And the champagne we opened had lost a bit of its sparkle for me. It was really the first time I've ever been fed up with drink.

Lost

It seems that we have won.
The floods are gone;
The clean-up's moving on;
A new town spirit has begun.
But we never should forget the cost -
Destruction's scars marked everyone,
And three men's lives were lost.

---

Tewkesbury residents give their reactions to the floods. The disbelief and numb shock after being flooded, experienced by hundreds of families, is reflected in the first poem.

Washed away

It was like the pictures on TV, But this was grim reality: The fridge freezer floating on its back, And the dining table overturned, As if there'd been a bomb attack. Silence, shock, desolation, gloom - The whole town echoed in my room; And everywhere the strange, medieval smell.

And I put my memories in a skip, As if my life was washed away; All the little things I knew so well - Dad's stamp album, just a blip In time; the hymn book, used each Sunday By my mum - just rubbish now. And I look around, and wonder how To stop feeling that my home's been raped.

I must be grateful, though - I can escape, Walk up an alley, get away from here, Whenever it really gets me down. In Bangladesh it happens every year, And people drown.

A breath

The only way in and out of Tewkesbury was along the cycle track, which became as busy as the M5, but full of bicycles and people and broken conversations - as soon as you stopped to speak to someone you knew, you would be hustled on again.

The path was soon churned up and muddy, and because there was a canopy of leaves overhead it was all very hot and humid - sub-tropical, almost, like walking through a jungle. You'd join the track at one end all neat and tidy, and come out sweaty and dishevelled at the other.

And I remember, waiting by the bowser, thinking, "This is an alternate universe - like the UK but somehow not, as if we'd gone through some extraordinary portal."

It was odd in town, too: footsteps echoing; people taking photos; an air of strange excitement.

It was as if the whole community was holding its breath.

---

Many people devoted days to helping others in their community. This piece comes from two women in Tewkesbury who pitched in right from the start.

Saving the day

Stranded people needed toilets.
Opened scout hut - tea soon brewing!
Hungry people needed feeding.
Went to Tesco - can you help us?
Food and drink please? They donated:

Sandwiches and stir fry, sausages and bacon,
French bread and butter, knickers, pants and toothpaste,
Loo rolls and deodorant, cooking oil and scouring pads,
Baby wipes and baby food - and coffee, tea and milk.

Someone thoughtful planned this list out -
Not just rubbish, out-of-date stuff.

Then sleepy people needed bedding -
Red Cross duvets made them comfy.
Some folks stayed until the Thursday!
We kept cooking - all day breakfasts,
All on camping cookers - really!
Frying eggs I burnt my fingers;
Vicar there - I couldn't swear - ow!
The hut still smells of burning now.
Other people brought more food in,
Even though they had been flooded.
Everyone was cheerful, happy -
Friendships formed: one man will be
Godfather for a couple met there.

We kept going - never tiring,
All the helpers on a high!
There was laughter, fun and singing -
Sausage rolls were microphones -
Craig Douglas' song Only 16 be-
Came our theme tune, not sure why.

Friday came, and then the clear-up,
Folding, rolling, sweeping, wiping.
But we couldn't clean the blackboard,
All the names and contact numbers;
Every name meant something to us,
People we had met and shared with.
Two weeks passed before we washed it;
Then we knew it was all over,
But memories, I'm sure, will stay
Of one week when we saved the day.

---

The Fire and Rescue Services co-ordinated the activities of services from all over the country. Strensham services, on the M5, was one of their bases.

Instead

M5. Strensham services. The car park.
Not renowned for being interesting,
Let alone surreal,
But then transformed into a field
Of rigid fire and hard-edged poppies,
Soldier red and solid steel -
Half the nation's New Dimensions assets
(That's high-volume pumps), instead
Of cars,
While crews kitted out like men on Mars,
But dropping from exhaustion,
Seemed glamorous as movie stars
To holidaymakers, wearing shorts,
Just popping in for petrol and a pee.
All caught permanently for me
In early-morning freeze frame,
Where my name and rank didn't earn a Travelodge bed
And I'd made do with sleeping bag and reclined car seat instead,
And I didn't even get a cup of tea.

Other memories abound:
In exhilarating action, not just desk-bound;
Challenged by the need for ever-changing plans;
Humbled by the gratitude of every man
And woman that I met;
I won't forget
The backdrop beat and thump of generators;
Rescue vessels sliding up town streets
Like alligators in a mangrove swamp;
The aerial view: not what we knew - instead
It was the Gloucestershire Delta, Terry said.

Twenty million litres pumped from Mythe in just one night!
But not only a water fight -
Crews from twenty services accommodated, fed,
Deployed; forced now and then to rest,
Although buoyed up and keen to do their best;
And they all had to be managed without messiness or muddle,
Even when, the rescues ended, the focus turned instead
On giving the community a cuddle,
Because sometimes life is hanging on a very fragile thread.
This was deadly serious stuff,
And we know that action's not enough -
Our aim is to give everyone a quiet life instead.

---

A beautiful and poignant poem inspired by one man's experience of the disaster. Gloucester Fire Station Commander Tally Giampa, along with many hundreds of others in the emergency services, worked ceaselessly to help people caught up in the disaster.

Unbelievable

When even blue lights make no progress,
And to rescue people in distress
A tractor is the only means to take;
When crossings seem to be real pelicans perched above a lake;
When stopping for a break
Is something people just forget to do,
Like buying water for HQ,
When there's none left anywhere;
When you use a mop handle to prepare
And check the way before you in the dark;
When the fire station yard and car park
Disappear under a crowd of people, tankers, vans and boats;
When mobile homes just float,
And the media go daft;
When I'm asked to be translator for Italians with hovercraft,
And arms waved, crossed, across a face
Tell me without words that they have found the place
Where a young man fell and died;
And to make them let me carry on, I lied
And said I'd had a little sleep;
When, with the water six feet deep,
I spent eight days in an undrugged high,
Buzzing with adrenaline, getting by
With nothing but nerves and colleagues for support,
No time for feeling or for thought;
When the impossible is found to be achievable,
That's when the only word that seems to fit is
...Unbelievable.

---

Cheltenham Hospital. Pat Barlow is the Information Centre Manager for Oncology Outpatients at Cheltenham General Hospital.

Ripples and waves

Water gets everywhere, in little ripples or powerful waves, and that's what it was like for the hospital services.

It started with little ripples here. We had to put up about twenty outpatients overnight. They slept in the waiting room, where the lights have a movement sensor. It was a bit of a disturbed night, really, because every time anyone needed to go out to use the loo, all the lights flickered on. And we had a new chaplain in the hospital - she'd only just started - and she was stranded and spent the night in the chapel. She said to me that she would like to say that she had spent the time in prayer, but actually she ate a pizza and slept on the floor.

Bigger ripples reach into the future for cancer patients. They have a mental timetable for coping, and it was upsetting for them to have this disrupted by cancelled appointments. This big, busy department was quiet - intimate, almost. It was as if a cure for cancer had been found and everyone had gone home. I wish.

More powerful waves reached as far as Birmingham and Bristol. Dialysis patients need water for their treatment - it's life or death for them. When supplies were cut off, these people had to be taken to distant hospitals; those hospitals in turn had to set up night shifts because their daytime capacity was already full. Somehow everyone coped with the overflow, but it meant care and co-operation from a lot of people.

But the ripples went a long way back in time for me. I was in a terrible state during the flooding - nervous, agitated, couldn't sleep, couldn't stop watching the reports on the television. And I couldn't work out why - my house was safe. But then it came to me - I was a little girl in the East Anglian floods of 1953, and I had been swept away. I've never learned to swim, and I'm still scared of water. The effects have lasted 54 years for me, and I expect that they'll last just as long for the people caught up in the tide of damage this time.

---

All the residents were evacuated from Victoria Court sheltered housing in Longford, Gloucester where Eva Broadhurst, Phyllis Lane, Helen Donnelly, Muriel Whittaker and Alice Price recounted their experiences. Although it can be very difficult for older people to cope with the unexpected, a strong sense of humour prevailed.

A novel experience

The water came up the road in waves, like the sea across flat sand.
We stood on the steps and watched it - an anxious little band.
Then
Me? Well, I made my escape, got out while the going was good;
My sister came over to rescue me, as quickly as she could.
And me? With the others, I was evacuated, taken away by bus,
And I tried to to do as I was told, didn't make a fuss,
But to get things packed in half an hour, when you're older, is much harder.
I put in nightie, toothbrush and two pair of pants - then off to the Ramada!
So while friends and relatives worried about whether I was ok,
I spent the night in luxury - like a little holiday.
But me - I went to the bathroom in the early hours of the morning,
And felt cold water on bare feet. There wasn't any warning,
And all I had was ruined, and my flat's just an empty shell.
It's a novel experience, I'll tell you, but I think I'm coping well.
I'll be 80 in December, and I'm hoping that by then
Everything will be back to normal, and I never go through this again.

---

Bren MacInerney is Chairman of the Longford Action Group, which campaigned successfully against the building of new houses on the flood plain.

Vindicated

We've all got other jobs; we didn't want this struggle.
The decision had been made to dump houses here in Longford.
It wasn't out of nimbyism; people must live somewhere,
But it's green belt; there'd be traffic; and, worst, this is a flood plain.
If they could sort out all the flooding, we wouldn't have objected.
We used all types of media to make them feel uncomfortable.
A drop of hope: "We recognize that the residents are unhappy."
Then a trickle - the Director said: "We understand there are issues."
And we won: unprecedented, almost; council plans were changed!
And some people have said that now we can feel vindicated,
But in Longford alone, one hundred and forty homes were flooded,
And to gloat or feel triumphant would be meaningless to these people.
Such sentiments as these you keep strictly to yourself.
And anyway, the evidence is there for all to see.

---

Coming back into work after a flood can be strange - the small things can seem very important.

Tea

What do you look for, after a flood,
Among the debris and the mud?
I'll tell you:
Flynn's bed - our dog needs a place to sleep -
And his biscuits, that we keep
On a high shelf.
For myself, some photos in a box;
My stapler and the keys - the locks
Can stay unchanged; clock cards,
So everyone could be paid;
The lemon drizzle cakes I'd made the day before,
Now floating in a tub; my mug;
The darts, once we were sure
That the dartboard hadn't gone;
Some chairs still safe to sit upon;
But (we're English, after all) most important had to be
A kettle, so we could gather round
And have a cup of tea.

Timing

I was the leading lady.
First night: my chance to shine,
But just before the curtain rose,
That sweet mother of mine
Showed me photos of our flooded home,
Defiled and devastated.
On stage, timing is everything -
Mum, couldn't you have waited?

Driving home

Inside every driver
(Or perhaps it's only men)
Is an atavistic hunter
Longing for danger again.
So when I drove through floods that night,
I was ready to kill or be killed;
And though I felt a little concern, and fright,
I'll confess - I was mostly just thrilled.

---

The following poems were all inspired by the many people that Brenda spoke to around the county.

Greatest fear

At first it seemed a bit of fun - just the river leaking,
And I have no fear of water, though I'm terrified of heights,
But when I saw a pregnant woman winched up to a Sea King,
That's what made me realise what was happening that night.

We almost never closed

We really didn't want to close -
Theatre tradition after all!
But then I had the warning call:
Our fully booked-up weekend shows
Could not go on.
And then we let folk in for free -
Claustrophobia had set in;
They needed to watch anything.
The Painted Veil and Spiderman Three
Were all we had.
Our stalwart staff - a core of four -
Although with troubles of their own,
Flooded out, perhaps, at home,
Kept offering to do more and more
Till they were drained.
Financially, it's been a blow.
The flooding problem didn't last,
And we were up and running fast,
But no-one seemed to know
That we almost never closed.

---

A teenager's experience.

Worst birthday

It was horrible -
Like any flood, I suppose.
Not what I'd planned for the school holidays,
Unloading bread and water from a lorry,
And carting it around, to older people.
Hard work, that.
And my worst birthday ever.
We were going paintballing.
Haven't made it yet.
I did get into Cheltenham,
Spent my money on a games console.
But my trainers got all wet,
Soaked through.
I won't let mum forget -
I need some more. Brand new.

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought
That getting up, and coming down the stairs,
Away from rain-filled dreams, could mean such nightmares?
Who would have thought
That a fridge would float like a buoy at sea,
And every decision be left to me?
Who would have thought
That we would have to come to terms
With a lawn covered in dead mice and worms?
Who would have thought
Such damage could be caused, just by the wet?
And no-one seems to care that it isn't over yet.

---

Alan Cresswell's barber's shop in Tewkesbury was completely inundated. He shares his memories of the clean-up operation and two particularly determined customers...

Downs and ups

Rain drops like saucers,
And a three-foot tidal wave
That hit the houses and spread out...

The basement of my barber's shop
Had filled and lifted up the floor,
So everything was floating.
Silence, silence everywhere,
And no-one knew just what to think;
But voices started calling out,
"How much have you got there?"
But beneath each echoing, jovial shout,
Businesses were sinking.
We started pumping; the level fell,
The floor went down - but didn't stop,
And down and down my spirits dropped
Deep into the basement, with the floor.
And all around the mood sank too.
There was so much clearing up to do,
So much expense. But nevertheless,
Despite the damage and the mess,
What sticks like mud is memories
Of ladies making coffees and teas
And bringing rock cakes, in their wellies;
The one and only pump, brand new,
Was twenty years old when the day was through;
And a groom and best man, who came by canoe
To get haircuts for their special day.

Tewkesbury, I can honestly say,
Showed what a community can do.
We pulled together, and we pulled through.

---

Our thanks go to everyone who has contributed to Ten Days.

Companies and organisations

Brynteg Books in Winchcombe, Cheltenham General Hospital, Pittville Pump Room in Cheltenham, Glos Media, Longford Action Group in Gloucester, Priors Park Neighbourhood Project in Tewkesbury, the RAF, The Roses Theatre in Tewkesbury, Tenpin Bowl in Gloucester, Tewkesbury Borough Council, Victoria Court Sheltered Housing in Gloucester, Ye Olde Black Bear public house in Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire Fire and Rescue Service.

Individuals

Liz Avery, Pat Barlow, Carol Batsford, Joe Batsford, Louise Beadle, Eva Broadhurst, Mike Bruton, Joe Coyle, Alan Cresswell, Sgt Andrew Dixon, Helen Donnelly, Lucy Etheridge, Heidi Finch, Tally Giampa, Elaine Hancox, Alan Hoar, Pauline Jeffries, Phyllis Lane, Gary Manners, Wendy McColgan, Bren McInerney, Ian Mean, Edna Mills, Roger Pigram, Alice Price, Chris Proctor, Matthew Read, Deborah Rees, Carl Robinson, Anne Rowland, Gillian Smith, Maggie Thornton, Henry Tychmanowicz, Sharon Vick, Paul Wallis, April Wallis, Malcolm Ward, Mandy Ward, Muriel Whittaker, Terry Wilce, Clair Wright.

Writer

The wonderful Brenda Read-Brown

Sponsors and supporters

For more information about our education programme please contact:
Philippa Claridge: 01242 775891
Nicola Tuxworth: 01242 775822