Today is Storm Doris's day. A woman called Helen Chivers, not Shivers as she should be, from the Met Office was on Radio 4 this morning telling us that giving human names to gusts of wind is a really good thing because it makes everyone aware of the dangers of bad weather. We must keep our ears glued to the radio, the way you see in old war films and remain very alert because Storm Doris is going to be windy and there will also be snow in Scotland. I’m not taking any chances and will retire to the cellar under my house.
Yesterday I was alerted to other new dangers in my once humdrum life. I thought my new cooker had broken because I was unable to light it. But when an engineer came to take a look, he explained that there was nothing wrong with it. My problems were all due to new ‘safety’ features and you cannot avoid them. ‘Nothing lights straightaway these days,’ he said wearily. 'The grill and hobs won’t light unless you have a few goes at them.’ He didn’t say what was safe about that, and there was nothing he could do to make my cooker less ‘safe’ and more efficient to use.
I decided to go for a swim to work off my increased annoyance. I recently joined a health club at a local private school. To my surprise the pool has diving boards. Most pools don't these days. Growing up, all our big municipal pools had a deep end and diving boards. You paid a few pence to use them. They are long gone. Now you have to pay £300 a month or more to swim in four foot of water and diving is out of the question. I once told a young life-guard about our old pools and their facilities and he didn’t believe me. Another man at a newly built swimming baths looked aghast when I mentioned diving. ‘We can’t have those,’ he said. ‘Health and Safety would never allow it.’
It’s different for public school boys. The school where I swim now has horse riding, golf, a rifle range and, yes diving boards. Presumably the boys are still being prepared as the officer class, ready to go over the top if required, remembering that Eton College lost more men than any other English fighting force in the Great War. Of course we are only allowed to use the diving pool at weekends, if two life guards are present.
When I arrived I was infuriated to see a queue of swimmers waiting outside the changing rooms. ‘They won’t let us in anymore until five minutes before the session, for safety,’ an old lady told me. Apparently someone had been seen swimming in the empty pool just before the session officially started. As a result, our fifteen minute changing time has gone down to five. That person was me. I didn’t admit that to anyone in the queue as many English people don’t like rule breakers. They increasingly seem to like rules, especially ones imported from America.
After swimming I did confess my sins to the man on the front desk, and begged him to put our changing time back to normal. He couldn’t do that he said, because it wasn’t just me. Two men had been seen, diving, on a weekday, without life-guards. I assume they’ve been expelled from the club. I went home feeling guilty; I’d let the other swimmers down, let myself down, and I'd probably let the neighbour’s cat down. As life gets so much more dangerous, staying in looks increasingly attractive.
In the evening I tried to watch the last episode of The Halcyon on catchup. A message came up telling me it contained ‘some upsetting scenes’ so I couldn’t watch it before 9pm unless I had a special pin. Pins sound dangerous and I don’t have any lying about. I was annoyed all over again. My blood pressure began to rise, and I felt a sudden urge to do two mortally dangerous things; have a glass of wine and a piece of chocolate. Of course I only keep the dark stuff in the house, not the chocolate I really enjoy.
Next I made sure my smoke and carbon monoxide alarms were working, before I crept carefully up the stairs to bed. It’s usually safe there since I gave up on the perils of sex. There is no bad weather in bed, although there is sometimes wind, which should be checked by consultation with a doctor or a visit to A&E as it can be a sign of incipient cancer. Not a bad night but sadly I woke up to the sound of Miss Shivers telling us all that Doris is on her way; what are we supposed to do? She said alert the neighbours, but what then? Help!