91热爆

The rains started to fall on the Friday. I was on a day off, but like so many others, got caught up in the story. I was driving back to Cheltenham from Gloucester with my 10 month old daughter, Betsy. It would normally take 20 minutes. Traffic chaos meant it took two and a half hours. I'd also run out of nappies. Not good, but others were much worse.

Everyone that day knew someone who had been caught up. My neighbour who was coming for dinner that night was stuck on the M5 for 15 hours. My wife's best friend, who's six months pregnant, couldn't get home and ended up staying with the sister of a friend. So we all knew someone affected, but little did we know that soon we'd all be part of the story.

Over the weekend we sent several reporters and camera crews out, trying to make sense of what had happened overnight. Emergency shelters were being set up, people had been flooded out for the second time in a month, there was more damage, destruction and, understandably, anger.

On Sunday morning things changed again when Severn Trent told us water supplies would start to run out. We headed straight to a supermarket where the panic buying had already kicked in. Staff were limiting people to two bottles each. Police were guarding the doors because there had been trouble; all this before the water had even stopped running.

Evacuation?

Then the power cuts started as the flood water started to rise at two major substations in Gloucester. This is when we knew the story was huge. Losing water supplies was one thing, but just what would the authorities do if power was cut to hundreds of thousands of people? There was talk of a possible mass evacuation but thankfully no one had to make that decision.

It was around this time that my view of the world around me changed. Day to day life in Gloucestershire wasn't the same anymore. On Sunday afternoon we started to see lifeboats, coastguard trucks, scores of fire engines and police cars. A chinook helicopter landed on the A40 outside Gloucester to drop off 50 troops to help shore up the Walham substation. As I sat in my office in Gloucester editing material for that night I saw an image that has stuck in my mind. From my little window overlooking Kingsholm I saw a Sea King rescue helicopter hovering over Alney Island. Not something you see everyday. This was getting surreal.

That night as I headed out to the floods to prepare for a live broadcast the streets were empty - road closures everywhere. The traffic lights kept flickering on and off. We were on the brink of a crisis not seen in this country since the second world war.

This was going to be the biggest story in Gloucestershire since the West murders in the mid-nineties. Testament to that came on Monday morning when Westgate bridge in Gloucester was covered in TV Satellite trucks. National television presenters from George Alagiah to Jon Snow were there with their camera crews, beaming images across the world.

Rescue

The focus now was on the rescue effort. Thousands of volunteers from the tip of Scotland to Lands End came to Gloucestershire. Stark images of babies being rescued in lifeboats, people being airlifted from their homes, normal city centre streets under 10 feet of water. Everywhere you turned blue lights and sirens filled your senses as this incredible operation stepped up a pace.

There were so many stories to cover and so many people willing to speak to us despite facing the worst. Families who had lost their homes under flood water, facing the next few months living out of suitcases. Their resilience was remarkable. Then the volunteers and emergency teams - working long hours in tough conditions. Several I met had been flooded themselves, but preferred to save others before worrying about their own lives. There were retained firefighters who were normally schoolteachers and plumbers drafted in to help. Nobody said no. One of the Severn Trent managers told me he had tears in his eyes watching the dedication of the men trying to get Mythe Treatment works back up and running. Emotions were running high for everyone.

Then as the water supply started to go we had yet another story - the arrival of the bowsers. The hunt was on to find the first one. I managed to get to one in Longlevens. The elderly man filling up his bottles had a huge smile on his face. "we got through worse than this in the war, didn't we?" He had a point.

Again it wasn't difficult to find people to speak to. I had a lunchtime deadline approaching when we were desperate to find someone to talk to about an empty bowser. As we turned the corner we saw a woman sat reading a book in a deckchair next to her bowser with a couple of empty bottles, waiting for it to be filled up. A journalist's gift.

Community

As a journalist you rarely live the story yourself, but once my water ran out I too was involved. It didn't necessarily change the way I reported what was happening, but I had a better understanding.

What many people don't realise is that everyone working to ease the crisis were working in the same conditions. For example, the Red Cross teams didn't have any running water for over a week. But they still carried on taking relief supplies to the vulnerable and the elderly. A strange experience for them. Normally used to working in disaster zones abroad, now they were helping with a disaster on their own doorstep.

One theme that's come from this crisis is the way the community worked together. It brought out the best in people. Something that's been hidden away for too long. Neighbours who had never met were now talking and helping others to get water. Bowser culture became a big thing as we all talked about the one thing we had in common (are bowsers the new water coolers?!).

Perhaps, in some ways, we'll miss our big blue friends when they're gone. Let's hope that the community spirit doesn't disappear, though. Out of all the tragedy, something good has been left behind.

By Steve Knibbs
(Gloucestershire reporter, 91热爆 Points West)