AN ILL WIND?

Martin Lunghi

It's my impression that Coll's normal calendar of events is rarely so full and dramatic that last February's 'Great Storm' (or even hurricane - Gosh!) should pass unremarked. Indeed, my wife - who thrives on disasters - declared that she hadn't had so much fun in years (hmm!) and we fully expect to be sitting by our fireside in time to come, recalling the day and night when physical objects came to life and vented unknown ages of pent up spite on their living overlords. Pretty much like a poltergeist we thought at the time.

Admittedly, to a T.V. callussed generation coarsened by years of fictional menace and nastiness this might all have been rather tame stuff but, for us at least, it was an adventure which easily eclipsed mucking out the duck house.

I suppose the damage wasn't really that great. Several caravans met an untimely end, (leaving at least one philosophical islander homeless); the power lines were down for the best part of two days and many telephones became purely decorative. Mostly, however, it was a case of loosened slates and migrant plastic buckets which, impelled by a N.W. storm, should all have ended up around Uig - they didn't!

So we revelled in it, partly in fear, partly in wonder, struggling with the briefly animated world of things and, by and large, coming off second best. But it didn't matter. In fact, there was something oddly pleasing in feeling like cotton grass in the face of that roaring, arrogant display of natural power.

Other islanders spoke later of 'natural justice being meted out' and of having feelings of anxiety, anger, exasperation, helplessness, etc, as mundane order was upturned. Some hid, some prayed, some placed their faith in ropes and sandbags but official sources of help were not available nor was it easy to seek the support and companionship of one's neighbours. Interestingly, this commonly observed tendancy for people in adversity to herd together may be largely denied islanders. It can be seen in students before exams and was reported, too, during the New York black-outs some years ago. Certainly, I can remember , during dramatic snow falls or floods, complete strangers linking arms and suburban neighbours who had scarcely ever exchanged a word, huddled together at their garden gates in conspiratorial wonderment. For many an islander, however, simple distance may frustrate this human need for contact. Still, most have survived and some have even profited, for out of the storm came drifting enough usable timber to satisfy the cravings of the most industrious D.I. Yer. Fortunately, it transpires that our resident Receiver of Wrecks has completely misconstrued his role and has, for some years now, been awaiting the coming of a king! Ah, well!