(Based on a true story)
2026 may be hotter, but 1976 was the year of the Great drought. In the SW there was no rain for 45 consecutive days in July and August. Reservoirs were dry, water was cut off and people had to use the standpipes erected in streets of Devonshire towns, certainly including Tavistock, Okehampton and Princetown. Probably largely forgotten now except by those of us with more or less accurate recall. Then, like now exactly 50 years later, the land was parched, lawns and fields were brown, crops and shrubs dying, ice cream had vanished from the shelves, and the beaches were full of sunbathers enjoying the Mediterranean weather. Schools did not close, but farmers were moaning – no change there then, but with real justification. The government even appointed a Minister for Drought to show it was taking matters seriously!
It was for me a career defining moment, the pinnacle from which came the inexorable decline to oblivion. It is a little-known fact that I played a major role in resolving the situation. (‘little known’ = of dubious provenance, quite possibly totally untrue).
I have lived virtually all my life, now 84, on the SW fringes of Dartmoor, but I did spend some years in Staffordshire. During that time, I became the youngest member of Staffordshire County Council. Although our situation was not as bad as in the SW, the council decided to take drastic action. In line with the time–honoured principles of all local councils, it decided to set up a committee. This is a standard tactic when no one can think of anything else to do. It gives the appearance of action whilst doing nothing of the sort. In the meantime circumstances might change – and in any event it successfully pushes the problem down the road. If continued along enough, with luck it will be someone else’s responsibility to sort it out!
In the workings of the county Council, I was of course of no real significance. The ideal person therefore to chair the committee whilst keeping more important figures out of the firing line. But I saw it as my moment of truth. Not a Canute moment – he failed to hold back the sea after all. More like Archimedes Eureka moment when he stepped dripping from the bath to announce his momentous discovery.
A challenge certainly, but with the enthusiasm – not to say naivety – of youth one I was prepared to face. There must be something we could do. A meeting of the sub committee was duly held with all the haste for which councils are well known i.e. a week later. Officers had prepared papers with suggestions to conserve water. Bath sharing was top of the agenda. I
was prepared to embrace this enthusiastically (dependent on the age, sex and condition of the partner), but even my wife drew the line at that!
All well and good, but none of our proposals would significantly improve the situation. Only torrential rain would do that.
Next day, the 27th August, it rained with a vengeance and continued to do so for days. We were able to announce (implausibly) the council had once again stepped into the breach and brought relief to our beleaguered residents. (Oh, and don’t forget to vote for us at the next election).
I prepared a Press Release: “There’s no need to thank me. I did nothing really. I’m no hero. I only did what anyone else would have done” (well, all that was true anyway) I wrote modestly.
Sadly, my sterling efforts were ignored – they didn’t vote for me at the next election!
David Stanbury August 2026
Footnote – I wonder if Devon County Council would be interested in my services.
