When the sun shines on British Atlantis once more
IN AUGUST 1935, almost 80 years ago to the week, the authorities came for the Cumbrian village of Mardale Green. Hundreds were evacuated from their homes, while farm buildings, the village pub (the Dun Bull Inn) and church were dismantled stone by stone. Even coffins were dug up in the graveyard and re-interred in a different part of the parish.
Once all had left, a detachment of sappers from the Royal Engineers were called in to rig up enough explosives to punch a hole in the side of the valley, and blew Mardale Green to kingdom come.
The ruins were flooded and turned into an extension of the Haweswater Reservoir by the Manchester Water Authority to serve the great city with fresh (ish) water which it still does today. I say “ish”, for I am no fan of the metallic-tasting stuff that emanates from Manchester’s taps, ranking it almost as bad as that of London.
Mardale Green is not the only village to be drowned in the name of progress. Fifty years ago, the North Wales farming community of Capel Celyn was flooded with 70 billion litres of water to provide a new reservoir for Liverpool. In 1965, the Lanarkshire pit village of Bothwellhaugh was flooded for the development of Strathclyde Country Park.
Nowadays, in particularly dry summers, the water levels plummet and the ruins of these British versions of Atlantis rise once more. Last year, Haweswater Reservoir receded to such an extent that tree stumps, stone foundations and old farm gates of Mardale Green came to the surface.
Of course, there is no chance of that happening during this washout of a summer. The only question I have, looking out my window at the fat rain drops drumming up vast puddles in the street, is whether more villages may join them underwater in the week ahead?