Storm Ophelia blew and blew, and nearly knocked our little bungalow down but my abiding memory will be laughing in bed with my partner and our three little boys, and none of us were stressed and grumpy for a change.
Before sharing my experience, we should acknowledge the three lives cut short during Storm Ophelia. The family and friends currently mourning will have very different memories of the storm.
Our electricity first went around 3.00pm Monday afternoon, but came back 10 minutes later. As normal, I assumed we were special and would escape the power cuts already happening elsewhere. So, despite the initial warning I was surprised when the power went again half-an-hour later and stayed off this time. Living in the countryside means we have our own water supply and this went off too when the power to the pump cut out.
My first thought was the toilet. How could we flush it with no water? I remembered a small churn we have outside, behind the garage. I readily admit to what will possibly be a future criminal offense here now – I went out in the storm and drove my car. The journey was to the river 200m down the road from us.
My partner insists it’s a stream not a river, given its size. But she’s English and refers to the presses as cupboards too.
Anyway, I filled the churn with water drawn from the river/stream in a bucket, before driving back home again and struggling to the front door with our churn of toilet water. It certainly wasn’t drinkable, but it meant we could now flush the toilet.
With three boys aged eight, five, and two, panic is never an option in our house. Scarcely contained mayhem may be the norm, but my partner, Tracy and I can’t ever afford to panic.
So, after my trip with the churn, we carried on as normal until it started to get dark after 6.00pm. Teeth, wee-wees, and bedtime stories then hovered into view. We lit candles and the five of us went en masse to the bathroom where we somehow all managed to wash our teeth and do wee-wees (the boys only) before someone blew out the candles (possibly a parent).
Bedtime stories are usually read one-at-a-time, since the boys are different ages and have different tastes and reading abilities: from the eight-year-old who reads Harry Potter to the two-year-old who points and shouts at pictures in his storybooks. The night without lights though we all had to gather round a plate of candles in the sitting room and share a story. I thought this would end badly but none of the three boys blinked. They adjusted to the new routine much faster than their parents.
It was after 7.00pm now, still nearly an hour before their normal bedtime. But again, no one complained when bedtime was announced. They got into bed, there was the usual messing, and 20 minutes later all was quiet.
Tracy and I read for a while by candlelight, couldn’t use our phones as there was no signal, and were in bed for 9.00pm. The five of us sleep like babies that night.
At 6.45am the following morning the eldest brought the youngest into our bed, and was quickly followed by the five-year-old.
Our usual routine involves alarms bleeping loudly at 7.00am, followed by breakfast and the general hub-bub of trying to get children ready for school, yourself ready for work, and everyone with their various bags loaded into the car before 8.45am.
But that Tuesday morning, with school, crèche, and the office closed, no one was rushing. Tickling and making bodily noises became competitive games in the bed. It was slowly getting bright when the boys got fed up of these games and we moved, again en masse, to the kitchen where we ate our breakfast, again by candlelight.
Tuesday passed – Tracy and the boys went for a walk, and I got some work done. Tuesday evening saw the same routine as the night before. Wednesday morning wasn’t as fun-filled as the previous one, but it was still more relaxed than usual. The power (and water) came back around lunchtime on Wednesday. At that stage, no one in our house was disappointed to be back in the 21st century again. The novelty was beginning to wear off.
Having said that, we were getting used to it. We had a new routine. Us parents were reading more and staring at phones less. The boys, as with the resilience of kids the world over, just assumed the lack of electricity was normal and adjusted seamlessly.
So, what’s the point of this run-of-the-mill story about living without electricity for a few days?
To each their own, but I took a few things from it and I hope by sharing them here others might get some use from them. Our little family has its share of ups and downs, like most people. With two parents working full-time and three school- and crèche-going kids, tension and stress are never too far under the surface. Living by candlelight and running the toilet with river water meant our needs were pared back for more simple living: no complaining about WiFi signal strength and looking at a cup of tea as a luxury. We all slept much better. We all had no choice but to get along better. There was less rushing and more calm in the house.
I’m not suggesting you turn off your electricity and we should again acknowledge that three people died in this storm. But if your electricity did go off during Storm Ophelia, then perhaps you should remember what it was like the night(s) you had no power: you managed.
Something powerful outside of your control acted on you and you got through. You might even have enjoyed the enforced peace and quiet, recalling perhaps the simple basic needs we all have.
If I was religious in any way, I’d say there’s meaning in that somewhere.
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