It is two years since the flash flooding of Coverack, a Cornish village, down on the Lizard Peninsula. It’s a village my family know well because we visit each year.
I remember watching the footage on the news and my little girls being amazed by the powerful destruction that they saw.
The sight of water, something they associate with paddling pools, hydration, taps, and hygiene, gushing down behind the village and pulverizing all in its path, was an obvious shock to them.
It’s never until we see nature at work that we comprehend what a powerful force it is. We only exist because of nature, and we take it completely for granted most of the time.
There is beauty in nature but there is also sheer destruction and terror.
Events such as the tsunami of December 2004 and the Whaley Bridge dam bursting bring this knowledge home to us. And it ensures that, every so often, we are given a little reminder of what lurks behind the beauty of the natural world.
It is easy to forget that we live in a continual cycle of natural dependency.
Everything around us is affected by and existing because of a million other tiny butterfly effects.
Our reliance on nature for survival, and nature’s reliance on us to protect it in order for our environment to be maintained, keeps us within a bubble of biodiversity.
This serves only to highlight the dangers of people such as President Trump and his ridiculous denial of global warming.
It doesn’t seem to be a matter of opinion that global warming exists.
But even if it doesn’t, how on earth can pumping pollution out into our seas and skies ever be considered a good thing, by anyone?
Our bodies are products of what we put in them, how we use and treat them, and the environment we live in.
It can be frightening as a parent to see what your kids are growing up in.
We have only to refer back to the glorious Coverack, and its unpolluted, and therefore star-spangled, skies at night, to witness the very real pollution of our city air first-hand.
We witness history in the making every single day
How quickly time goes. Watching Princes Harry and William with their own children brings home how more than two decades have passed since the death of Princess Diana.
In my mind, 1997 was about five years ago, and I find it odd that my own daughters have grown up during a period of time where they have no concept of Diana, other than as a vague historical figure.
I remember the street parties when she and Charles married and that sense of national pride we used to rejoice in, little realizing I was experiencing history in the making.
I try to instill this in my girls now but, as with so much, it’s not until you’re older you can appreciate it.
Do you remember the smell of old video rental shops?
Am I the only person who misses Blockbuster? There was something wonderful about heading off there on a Friday or Saturday night and choosing a film to watch.
Back in the good old 80s, families chose between Betamax and VHS (if you know, you know) and video shops were all the rage.
Nowadays we have Netflix and a billion TV channels, yet somehow there is often either nothing to watch or it simply lacks the excitement of an actual trip out to find a film.
I can even remember the smell of video shops (my grandad used to own one in Baffins), and disappointment if some other swine had got to the new release you had your eye on before you managed to swipe it.