Imagine having rain so hard that you had to give up trying to drive to Belfast and turn back, even though you were three quarters of the way there? Scary stuff, but worse if it's the middle of July. And that is the situation that a very good friend of mine faced whilst attempting to visit me yesterday (and for those of you who are concerned, he did indeed eventually manage to complete his journey). Consulting the news, one is washed away (if you'll pardon the pun) by a wave (see last note) of bad weather stories. One almost expects to look out the window and see Noah's Ark floating past. Now, if one flashes back a number of months (January, to be exact) the Doomsday Clock was put forward by two minutes because of climate change. I had the misfortune of walking past a television when this happened, and, being a sensitive soul, immediately ran to phone everyone I knew and warn them of our impending nuclear destruction. After finding out it was ‘only' climate change, I calmed down somewhat, but the seeds had been sown, and the threat of nuclear Armageddon has rarely left my mind ever since. Worsening my already precarious mental state, I made the mistake of watching "Threads" on DVD. "Threads" is a legendarily unflinching look at nuclear war in which we follow the story of a bunch of families in Sheffield as they attempt to deal with the consequences of a nuclear attack. Genuinely horrifying stuff, and just the wrong thing for a slightly paranoid mind. After completing my terror-fest, I was left in the situation of pondering which of the doors to remove to build my fallout shelter. "Why remove the doors?" you may ask. The answer, my friend, is blowing on the wind. The radioactive wind, that is. Being a keen reader, I had already investigated what to do in such an incident, having been gripped with fear at the prospect of nuclear war for quite a number of years. The official government documentation regarding nuclear war, which was in use from 1976 to 1996, was the legendary Protect and Survive booklet, a genuinely harrowing look at what you should do when the four minute warning starts. It is also a laughably unrealistic view of what to do when the alarm starts ringing. Hence the act of removing your door, tilting it at an angle against a wall, padding it with pillows and hoping for the best. It's better than the US policy of ‘Duck and Cover', but then jumping up and down with glee is better than ‘Duck and Cover'. But it got me thinking: even though Protect and Survive was rubbish, at least we were being given the pretence of options for what to do when facing our inevitable destruction. With the climate change problem, it seems to be just a case of, "make do as best you can..." which arguably helps no-one. So, looking at all the cars and people floating down the streets, I have decided to carry the burden myself, and produce some guidelines for what we are to do in the face of this climate apocalypse. STEP 1: ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS carry your umbrella. This protective shield allows rain-drops to bounce off the material, protecting the user from any dampness. It can also be used for gesticulation purposes and for leaning on. And it adds a touch of class to a wide variety of outfits. STEP 2: Live in a high up building, that way you can look down at all the water below you and just laugh and do a little dance.. Another benefit of this is that when the flooding becomes particularly bad, you can just throw a dinghy out the window and sail to work in a way that is sure to be a pleasantly diverting change from the norm. If indeed you still have a place of work. STEP 3: Avoid windy streets like the proverbial. They can blow your umbrella inside out, cause coldness and shivers, and - worst of all - carry raindrops in ways that are unpredictable and selfish. There is no defence against this, so just avoid certain streets completely (I'm thinking Bedford Street in particular). STEP 4: Invest in waterproof clothing. It may look rubbish, but who'll be laughing when you're looking at someone and their corduroy trousers are sodden and torn, whilst you're all dry (on the inside at least). You will, buster, that's who. STEP 5: Stock up on good books, films and music, and buy a load of tinned food (and a tin-opener, obviously). If the weather is particularly nasty, you might not want to go outside for a bit, and it's better if you can keep yourself amused in your house. Sorry, aqua-shelter. So there you go! These guidelines may not be entirely comprehensive, but they're as water-tight (if you'll pardon the pun) as Protect and Survive anyway. Hopefully now people can carry on in blissful ignorance as the world starts to fade away into nothingness and the Doomsday Clock strikes midnight. I'll be ready....will YOU?
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