climate change

Silly Sunday Serial – SOS

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 18 Comments

This is the fourth and final part of Flora and Jim’s story, you can see yesterday’s part here.

https://tidalscribe.com/2025/10/18/silly-saturday-serial-singing-in-the-rain/

Clarissa was having a wonderful evening. At last, as a volunteer with Seven Valley Community Support, she was getting to do something exciting and useful. With power lines down, the community centre was lit with candles and battery torches. Computers were down and all they had were clipboards and pen and paper. Clarissa was in charge of the list, or registering unhoused arrivals as she put it. Her excitement grew when a young policeman pushed his way through the throng.

‘Has anybody been reported missing yet?’

‘No, all accounted for.’

‘Not so apparently, the station got a frantic call from a mother who said she had not heard from her daughter and she is not answering her mobile. She just moved into that cottage by the river, umm Little Nile?’

‘Oh goodness, surely no one is living there after what happened last year? The name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The daughter.’

‘Oh yes, of course. Flora Dora.’

‘Are you sure? Obviously not from around here then. Anyone else living there?’

‘Her boyfriend, Jim James.’

Clarissa clapped her hands to gain attention, unsuccessfully. The police officer moved in front of her, glad of the chance to assert his authority and put on his crowd control voice.

‘Urgent, we need to know if we have a Flora Dora and a Jim James here.’

There was no response.

‘They just moved into Little Nile cottage.’

There was a collective gasp and urgent mutterings.

‘They’ll be gonners by now.’

‘Yup, cottage submerged completely.’

‘Even if they got out the river will have taken them.’

The policeman moved among them trying to get any useful information.

‘They would have heard the alerts and the red warnings.’

‘Not unless they have registered for Seven Flood Alert or got the app.’

‘Slim chance they might have made it up to the road, but that’s blocked off.’

‘The army,’ called Clarissa ‘my nephew’s out there on a training exercise with the Ukrainians.’

‘Training them?’

‘No, the Ukrainians are training our lot, they can drive tanks in the most awful conditions.’

Flora and Jim had started walking along the road, best case scenario they would meet a vehicle. Worst case scenario they would have to keep walking till they came to a house or the town. Neither of them mentioned the actual Worst Case Scenario, not that they could hear a word they said to each other, nor could they read each other’s expressions. All they could hear or see was the relentless rain. Perhaps it was fortunate they had to keep their thoughts to themselves, cosy memories of their parents’ boring little suburban houses…

It was so dark now, no street lights, not even any distant lights. There was no distance so they did not see the solid darkness looming out of the general darkness and barely heard the shouts. When they were blinded by a bright beam they had no chance of seeing anything.

‘Are you lost?’

‘Of course they’re lost corporal, not out for an evening stroll and get that torch out of their eyes.’

‘Soldiers’ stammered Flora through chartering teeth ‘are we on the firing range?’

‘No, but you must have a death wish, didn’t you heed the warnings? Names?’

They tried to say their names, but their frozen mouths did not seem to work. The soldiers got close and yelled ‘Are you Flora Dora and Jim James?’

They nodded vigorously.

‘The whole of the British army is out looking for you and half the Ukrainian army to boot.’

At the community centre Clarissa took charge of the new arrivals, she was not going to be upstaged.

‘Priority registration, have they got any rooms left at Premiere Inn, how’s the hot food coming along, we need two survivor kits over here right now, one men’s one ladie’s.’

She felt just like the United Nations or Medecine Sans Frontieres, though the survivor packs merely contained donated second hand clothes.

Flora and Jim soon became celebrities.

‘A good way to get to know the locals’ laughed Flora, almost restored to her normal self with hot chocolate.

‘And a free night at Premiere Inn hopefully’ added Jim.

‘Well your cottage will still be there, it’s withstood centuries of floods, though they are getting worse.’

‘Yup, it should be dried out by next August‘ added another local.

THE END

You can read the complete story tomorrow.

Saturday Short Story – The Interview

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 24 Comments

‘Doctor Chowdry, can you sign this to say you agree to this interview being filmed?’

‘With that tiny thing you call a phone, however many things does it do?’

‘If you claim to be from the future, surely you are acquainted with far more advanced technology than this?’

‘No, no, that’s what I have been trying to tell everyone for the past two months, all gone, everything that you take for granted gone. Where does the power come from for your phone, it’s not plugged in like your kettle and toaster and all those strange things in the kitchen.’

‘Battery… well obviously I plug it in to charge the battery.’

‘Mr Cummings, you seem like a fairly intelligent chap; how would your society work if the power disappeared completely?’

‘Um well, I cycle to work and do a great BBQ…’

‘And do you work in a building, does it have electricity, computers?’

‘Okay, point taken, the best thing you can do is to explain to me and the important people who are going to see this interview, what on earth happened between now and 2099.’

Doctor Chowdry does not wish to reveal his given names. Interviewed by Findlay Cummings, HM’s private office, Saturday 22nd July 2023.

‘Can you tell me your age and describe where you were living in 2099?’

‘In the same place I have lived all my thirty five years, in a large bunker beneath what was London. What I am going to tell you is incomplete, passed down to me by my parents and others by word of mouth. When communication, as you Mr. Cummings know it, has been destroyed, it is hard to know what happened to the city, my country, let alone the rest of the world. But as no one has come to find us except The Hunters, we can presume a world wide civilisation no longer exists.

You are all in a panic about the future, without doing much about it. Is artificial intelligence going to take over, is climate change going to destroy the planet, will wars ever stop? Artificial Intelligence will take over for a while, until the power cuts out, by which time AI has ensured that wars continue. Programmed to send missiles to destroy cities and power hubs it kept seeking out new targets.  The planet, Gaia, will be fine, it can look after itself, always has, while humans swarm around in panic like the ants and rats that live in our bunker.

A perfect storm of events occurred. In a city flattened by war or natural disaster and you already have plenty of those, people can’t access clean water or food or medical help. If the whole world was like that, who would send help? Are you getting the picture now?’

‘Yes, yes, but we wouldn’t have let it get like that…’

‘Well apparently you did. Add to that the fires and floods that you already have with regularity, bringing lost food production, we can presume lives were lost in the billions.’

‘But how did your people survive?’

‘My grandparents and others thought it a temporary measure, a wartime situation, shelter in the many underground networks, stock up on food and essentials to tide them over. It evolved into living underground, only creeping out to try and salvage what they could. Nature took over, quicker than they expected. You might think that sounds good, but for us nature is dangerous, certainly the way it developed. As nature encroached so did the animals and following them were the hunters.’

‘I thought no one had survived, how could they, but Lauren Smith has told us about the hunters…’

‘I have seen your so called ‘survival programmes’ and news about wars. Soldiers, mountaineers, people who love trekking around in the wild, those who hunted for fun, criminals as well perhaps; anybody who was tough, used to surviving out in the open, could handle a gun. Those people retreated to the wildest parts, shot animals for food, found abandoned farms, rode abandoned horses, they became the hunters. They were not bothered that they couldn’t read a book, go to the theatre, watch the news on television. Many of these tough ones would still have succumbed to natural disasters, but we know there are networks of hunters across our land. They bring us meat in return for medical help, such as we can offer.’

‘Are you a medical doctor?’

‘I don’t think I would get a job with your NHS. My grandfather was a doctor, a surgeon and I have his precious books, but not the means to carry out most of the procedures. I think of myself more as a scientist, preserving what has been passed down to me, trying my best to gain new knowledge.’

‘I will find medical people who will be very interested to talk to you. But I also want to know why you think nature is so dangerous, with war over why haven’t you moved outside, started growing food?’

‘Talking of food, it’s lunchtime and I’m tired and hungry, perhaps we will talk off record while we eat.’

Interview part one ended for refreshment break.

Sunday Short Story 633 – Ransom

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 16 Comments

The canoe took them the short distance from the anchored boat to the gleaming white shore. Close up, the island lived up to the promise of paradise glimpsed at first light. Tina wanted to race up the beach, but as Ben helped her out of the canoe she stumbled and fell to her knees, feeling sick. She plunged her hands into the hot sand; weeks and weeks at sea and they were no longer land lubbers.

Their new guardian laughed. ‘Your first steps back on British soil and you kiss the ground.’

Ben tried to stand up straight with some dignity.

‘Is this really a British island?’

‘Technically I suppose it is no longer, since your good queen gifted it to us at midnight, but this is your home now.’

‘Home,’ said Tina ‘isn’t someone coming to fetch us soon, you said…’

‘I said we would deliver you safely from your kidnappers, what your government has arranged I do not know, but why would you want to leave this beautiful island, weren’t you seeking a dream holiday when you left home?’

‘Where are we?’

‘You don’t need to know that, a real desert island, but it is our new home as well so you will not be lonely.’

He pointed out to sea where a strange fleet of boats old and new was heading for the shore. Tina stood up shakily and turned a full circle, taking in blue skies and palm trees; a dream island but her only thought was water, she knew only too well now how precious fresh water was.

‘Have you charted the island, are there streams, springs?’

Ben was looking out to sea. The boats were laden with bundles, supplies hopefully and once they had eaten breakfast they needed to plan, take in everything that had happened, slip away and search for an airstrip and the nearest village. He believed little of what the guardian had told them, this was hardly likely to be a real desert island.

‘What do you mean, more money, we gave them a whole island, what more do they want?’

‘Money to build an infrastructure Madam, the island was abandoned fifty years ago, there’s nothing there.’

‘That’s what they wanted, a peaceful island far from civilisation.’

‘They wanted a holiday industry to replace all they lost when their own island was burnt to the sand.’

‘Must be something there, who lived there before?’

‘A few thousand people, we forcibly evacuated them.’

‘Please don’t tell me it was one of those nuclear tests.’

‘No, no actually might have been chemical warfare development or some kind of scientific experiments, records destroyed, but we managed to track down one old navy chap through his nephew on the internet, nephew’s doing his own research on the island.’

‘So what are you going to tell the families, when are you meeting them?’

‘We’re meeting them in ten minutes.’

‘And in tonight’s headlines family and friends of the couple caught in a holiday nightmare kidnapping staged a protest at Downing Street, pleading

Fly Ben and Tina Home.

A friend of the couple gave a statement saying We have been told they are safe on land, on an island and arrangements are being made, but they won’t even tell us where they are. If we can evacuate thousands from Afghanistan why can’t we send one little plane to fetch two British citizens? Even Richard Branston has offered to fly them back in a private jet as soon as we know where they are.’

A government spokesman said ‘The British government never pays ransoms, but after careful negotiations a British couple, who can’t be named for security reasons, are safely off the boat and out of the hands of the pirates. We cannot reveal their whereabouts while negotiations continue.’

How did Ben and Tina end up in the hands of pirates? Find out here in a previous tale.

Friday Flash Fiction Five Hundred – On Board | Times and Tides of a Beachwriter (tidalscribe.com)

Friday Flash Fiction Five Hundred – The Cup That Cheers

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 13 Comments

I crept downstairs and put the kettle on. With any visitors staying I need half an hour and a cup of tea to get going; with Pandora and Justin staying, the later they got up the better.  Geoffrey had conveniently gone off on a golf holiday. At least they weren’t on the Palaeolithic diet this time, but perhaps their new veganism was even worse, that had come about after they joined Extinction Rebellion.

I sipped the cup that cheers and looked out of the kitchen window, the weather was looking good for their bike ride into town, perhaps I would join them if Justin could help me dig my bike out from the back of the garage… and if they promised not to go too fast…

67680007_2324402267816276_1640363927214751744_n1.jpg

‘Mother! What are you doing?’

‘Nothing… you’re up early, there’s still some tea in the pot.’

‘Tea, how could you, I’m going to have some carrot and cranberry juice before I go for my jog, you should have some, it’s good for post menopausal women.’

‘So is a nice cup of tea, it is Freetrade, loose leaf…’

I thought I had everything covered, meat out of the freezer, coffee machine hidden, impress them with the new Whole Earth shop to get something acceptable for dinner. I had even sold my car, I hated driving anyway, but at least I was doing my bit for climate change…

‘One day people will look back and wonder how anyone could drink coffee and tea, same as smoking is frowned on now.’

‘Oh Pandora, don’t be ridiculous, what harm is there in tea?’

‘Well firstly you put the kettle on, unnecessary use of electricity, then there is the addiction to caffeine… but also exploited tea pickers.’

‘If we stopped importing tea then they wouldn’t have a job at all…’

‘They could be growing food instead.’

There was no arguing with Pandora, she had an answer for everything, had done ever since she was three, now her experiences with Extinction Rebellion had led her to join the Green Party. I defiantly poured myself another cup of tea and tried to change the subject.

‘About what you said last night, are you serious, politics, what does Justin really think?

‘He will be a stalwart supporter, like Phillip May. Which reminds me, we have to watch breakfast television, that scientist chap we met on the protest is being interviewed.’

On went the television, Pandora seemingly unaware that the kettle wasn’t the only thing in the house that used electricity.

A scientist has claimed that if everyone gave up their daily cuppa or ten cuppas, it would contribute considerably to halting climate change. Professor Greenwood, are you actually serious about this proposal?

Of course, just add up all the electricity for all the millions of kettles, but it’s not just that… the resources that go into growing tea, then the carbon fuel to export it all over the world. If everyone just drank water…

Flowers 2

 

 

 

Spaceship Earth and the Climate Emergency

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 7 Comments

In another of the occasional blogs from my sister in Australia she shares a letter she sent to the ‘West Australian’ and ‘Australian’ newspapers.

29

 

This week the media has been full of information about the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing in 1969. It was an amazing achievement, and worthy of our attention, but before we get too distracted with thoughts of going back to the moon and then on to Mars, let’s think seriously about Spaceship Earth, and the lessons to be learned from the Apollo 13 mission.

This mission came to be dubbed a “successful failure” after an onboard explosion destroyed the chance of landing on the moon, and changed the mission into a far more difficult one of getting the astronauts back to earth safely. The craft was critically low in power, oxygen levels were of concern, and carbon dioxide levels mounted to near lethal levels. It took all the ingenuity of hundreds of people – scientists, astronauts and engineers – to solve the problems, and against all odds, the three men were brought back safely. During those tense days, the whole world watched and hoped, and mankind was once more united in a common cause.

Here on Spaceship Earth, we face not only the climate crisis, but also the problems of overconsumption, pollution, unimaginable mountains of waste, destruction of the environment with accelerating loss of biodiversity. The main lesson to be learnt from Apollo 13 is that humans are incredible and ingenious when our backs are against the wall. For those of us who accept that climate change is happening, we should not lose hope. The odds against the Apollo 13 flight coming home again were almost impossible, and yet they succeeded.

illustration of moon showing during sunset
Photo by David Besh on Pexels.com

For those in our community who deny there is a problem, consider what would have happened if, after those famous words “Houston, we have a problem” had been uttered by Jim Lovell, politicians had denied there was a problem, and instead ridiculed the astronauts. Then, when the scientists and engineers at Houston had confirmed that there was indeed a problem, had tried to silence them, preferring instead to believe those few people who asserted the whole moon landing had been faked anyway? What if, instead of using those precious hours to come up with solutions and implement them, the Americans had whittled away the precious hours by arguing about whether a problem even existed? It would have reached a stage when it was truly too late to act.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the world could be united in an effort to solve, or at least ameliorate, Climate change? We already have many solutions, but are failing to implement them because of disharmony and vested interests. We can succeed, but we have to start now, because … Houston, we have a problem. A big problem !!!!

Kate Doswell

Silly Saturday – Height of Hypocrisy

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 9 Comments

To reach the heights of hypocrisy is harder than you think, there are so many hypocrites around it is hard to compete, but don’t give up yet, you can be hypocritical without even realising it, without even being able to spell it.

Did you sign that petition to save orangutans, without even knowing how to spell orangatangs? Good, but when you went shopping for your peanut butter you picked the one with palm oil in. At least you bought a compassionate mouse trap at the hardware shop, remembered to check it when you got up and tip toed into the garden in your dressing gown to release the dear little mouse through the fence into next door. Then you had a cooked breakfast; so a mouse’s life is worth more than a pig’s?

DSCN1356

You signed the petition against using fossil fuels, but had a lovely day out on a heritage steam railway. Pondering on trains made you decide to sell your car, but luckily your partner also owns a car as you were very grateful when they drove you to the emergency weekend dentist when you had that abscess.

41085393_662789134103514_4402139103835979776_o

However, you are feeling extra virtuous because you were part of the Extinction Rebellion protest and your picture appeared on Facebook, with at least two friends recognising you. Of course you had not actually intended to sit on Waterloo Bridge with the protesters, but were trying to make your way home after visiting your grandmother in Saint Thomas’ Hospital; as the buses could not run across the bridge it was easier to walk across and catch a different bus. Then Isabella from work spotted you and enveloped you in flowers and kisses and introduced you to all her green friends and somehow you couldn’t get away…

If you haven’t already had a go at playing the Gaia game – Snakes and Stairs, why not try it?

https://tidalscribe.wordpress.com/2018/10/20/silly-saturday-snakes-and-stairs/

sunshine-blogger

 

 

 

Friday Flash Fiction – 800 – Dream Machine

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 6 Comments

Seth tried to hang on to the memories before he opened his eyes; a whole film in technicolour. He had dreamed a whole movie, a brilliant idea for a novel if he could recall it; write a best seller with film makers flocking to his door… that would be a dream. If only he could connect his brain to his computer, time would not be wasted sleeping, unless it was the fact that he was sleeping that produced the ideas. He jumped as his phone vibrated under his pillow and played that irritating tune. Every morning he vowed to change the tune and every evening he forgot. Whatever the melody, it didn’t alter the fact that he had to get up for work.

DSCN4743

The school Seth taught at bore no resemblance to the one in his dream, where young minds were nurtured and different talents exposed to produce a team of world changing teenagers with Seth sharing a little of the glory, or quite a lot as he was made Prime Minister. Who would play him in the film? He snapped out of his reverie and looked at the surly faces staring at him… and that was just the staff room. Seth put his empty coffee cup down and stood ready to face the afternoon.

‘Hey Seth, you’ve got a new kid in your English class, he’s in my form, Dad’s a scientist and polymath, seen him on television, goodness knows why he sent his son to this school, something about discovering real life.’

‘He was thrown out of his private school,’ said the head of science ‘too clever for his own good.’

Seth felt his hackles rise; they should be encouraging the clever kids, not putting them down. He strode down the corridor with an idea for the warm up pen and paper creative exercise.

The class was unusually quiet, gathered round the new boy who was talking enthusiastically, his long fingers gesticulating elegantly to illustrate his subject.

‘Without any discussion class, write for fifteen minutes imagining you could plug your brain into a computer while you slept.’

Unusually they settled down quickly. Seth sauntered casually between the desks, the new boy was scribbling furiously, words and hieroglyphics.

‘Isaac isn’t it?’

‘Yes Sir.’

At least the private school had taught him manners.

‘Named after Newton or Asimov?’

‘Both Sir.’

‘Do you enjoy writing?’

‘When it’s my favourite topic, good choice Sir, my father and I have just invented such a device. It didn’t go down too well at my last school, getting the pupils to volunteer; perhaps you would like to have a go?’

DSCN4601

So on Friday evening Seth found himself relaxing on a comfortable bed in a very pleasant room with electrodes attached to his head; he didn’t expect it to work, but he did have an idea for a new short story about a writer who finds himself  in the hands of mad father and son scientists. It was rather creepy being in the company of the two most intelligent people he had ever met.

‘Our initial aim is to discover if brain waves will translate into images or words or perhaps both’ said Isaac’s father.

Seth drifted off quickly. He was on board the International Space Station with  Isaac and his father and the attractive married science teacher he fancied; also bizarrely his mother and the middle aged lady who worked on the till at the Co Op. They had a fantastic plan for saving the Earth from climate change, if only he could remember what the plan was… he woke up with a start.

33421551_2100265946669851_1418245127951876096_n

‘Great, we’ve got some images already.’

Seth looked at the screen as he sipped a welcome cup of tea. A beautiful view of the earth, a view inside the space station, well anybody could get those images off the internet… but not pictures of his mother and everyone in his dream, the lady still in her Co Op uniform, the science teacher in a very short skirt and low cut blouse, floating around showing her figure to full effect. Isaac chuckled.

‘Hey Sir, you fancy Mrs Greening.’

Seth ignored the remark. ‘But we’re not talking, I’m not sure if we spoke in the dream, but we had a plan…’ he rubbed his temples ‘to save the earth.’

‘Let’s try the word document then’ said Isaac’s father.

Seth thrilled when he saw words come up on the screen, he’d written a book in his sleep, he peered closer, something was wrong…

I Captain odf the mosat brillainteam o severs sent up my mother fopr got to,mask me to get milkat the shops mrs greening saya her husband is dead so its okayforhet come up herthees the moonnt asbigasithoughtihave togobalc toearth itstime forscgool wonder if the shuttle is working todayknoitdoesb’tworkanymore ohohmyspacesuitdoesn;t fit ishallppbably implode otrisitsexplode ionspace………….

sunshine-blogger

For more stories, have a look in the book.