"The wind suddenly rose ...

"

The wind suddenly rose and at the time we thought nothing of it. We snuggled together, giggling, in the
caravan double bed. Jan and I were just married, too poor to afford a proper honeymoon, so we made
do with a week on that South coast caravan site, What does comfort matter when you're in love ?

For England, that October week in 1987 hand been warm and sunny. The forecasters had mentioned a
break in the weather, but nothing serious. How wrong they were to be proved.

My luminous watch gleamed one a.m. Something was odd, very odd. For one thing the sky as blacker
than I had ever seen it. For another, the wind didn't gust, it kept up a relentless pressure which gradually
increased. The noise had grown to a whine, rising steadily in pitch.

'Jan, it looks as though we're in for a gale', I said, and we moved to the window to look out. Under the
wind's pressure the frame seemed to be moving, and I had a sudden premonition of disaster. I grabbed
Jan and threw us both to the wooden floor. A second later the frame blew out and straight across the
room with a crack like a pistol shot. We were showered with glass fragments, but miraculously not cut.
Now we could feel the full force of the gale. It blew furniture, bedding, our cases and everything else
moveable up against the back wall.

'Jan', I shouted, 'we've got to get out of here. The caravan will go next'.

'I'm frightened, David', she answered, 'but you're right'.

'We'll need the rope', I said. I crawled across the floor to the pile of furniture, found our anaraks and a
length of stout rope we had used for securing the packs to our bicycles. we dressed as best we could and
I tied the rope round our waists. 'We'll try hands and knees', I said.

The wind screamed into the caravan as I released the door catch. we could make no progress. My guess
was that the wind was blowing off the sea at eighty miles per hour. Somehow we dragged ourselves
outside and on to the grass where, in file, we edged forward on our stomachs until we were clear of the
caravans and in no danger from flying objects like bits of trees, dustbins, clothes lines and lumps of rock
which had flashed over our heads. In the end we reached an outcrop of rock where I secured the rope
and where we could lie in its lee ,exhausted, but in comparative safety.
The gale had become a hurricane. Over five hours it's pitch rose to a steady scream sounding as though
all the demons of hell had been let loose. Our caravan, and most of the others, became matchwood and
just blew away. The waves smashed against the quay below, throwing small boats across the road to
splinter against the houses. Inland, we could hear the thunder of heavy trees crashing tot he ground. the
nightmare began to end at first light.

After wards, we learnt that the hurricane and been the worst in recorded English history. The wind had
gusted at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Twenty people had been killed. Five million homes
were blacked out. Up to fifteen million trees were destroyed. Total damage was estimated at 1 billion
pounds.

Oddly enough, we found our bicycles and some of our possessions -- three fields away