Open Writing

A 20-year-old man,"Buttercup Joe'' Lee, was the next to speak at the Cley Flood thanksgiving party. He told of almost losing his life.

“I had been working with my grandfather on his small-holding up the Langham Road at Wiveton. It had been quite a windy day. There were squalls of rain mixed in with some sleet. The wind was blowing from a northerly direction but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. January can be a very unsettled month on the north Norfolk coast.

“We came home about our usual time, somewhere just after 4 pm as the nights still got dark quite early. My grandfather came in from next door and said that the little girl from the Swallows had come round and said, 'The sea is in the street.'

“We went out to check. We started to get the pigs out of the bays, intending to move them to higher ground. My Grandfather and Dad carried a number of pigs in a sack which was put up in the spare bedroom at my Granny’s.

“Previous to this I had walked towards Cley and the wind was as strong as I have ever known it to be. I could virtually lay on the wind. I have heard people talk about laying on the wind but this was my first experience of it happening to me.

“Now we had taken some precautions. My Granny could remember the previous sea flood and said that it came down towards Glanford flooding the whole of the Glaven Valley, She always urged us to take these precautions.

“I went back to the garages to have a look round to see if there was anything else that could be moved. To my horror I discovered they had left one old sow. I tried to smash down a barricade to get to her, but it was strongly built.

“By this time there was about a foot of water all around me, halfway up my Wellington boots. I took a few steps back then hurled myself at the barricade. It gave way and I sprawled headlong into a foot of water, ending up near the dear old sow. I proceeded to guide her out of the shed, out onto the road whch was now covered with flood water. The sow turned the wrong way, going into deeper water. I could hardly run. The water had come over the tops of my boots. However I managed to get round her and send her back. She swam and then walked to higher ground where I knew she would be safe.

“By now I was exhausted, what with trying to run in water and contending with the rain which was falling heavily. The pullets which I had recently purchased for £1 each had been washed off their perches and were floating all around me. A chicken will float for quite a while but eventually it will drown. Water eventually soaks its feathers and it is pulled under by its own weight. I started to throw the pullets up onto the top of the smallest garage which was made of wood and corrugated iron.

“To my dismay some of the chickens were being blown off the roof, back into the water. I put them back on the roof again. I got all but one of the 30 chickens up there and was going after the very last one when there was the most terrific roar I have ever heard in my life.

"When I turned round all I could see was water. There was nothing for it but to jump up onto the garage with the chickens. I gave a mighty leap, caught the edge of the garage roof and pulled myself up. There I sat, watching the water rise. Soon it was halfway up the garage.

"I glanced at my watch and saw it was 6.30 pm. The volume of water was beginning to lift the garage from its base. Though I was still on the roof I was now standing in water. A huge pig trough came floating towards me. I thought that if I grabbed hold of it there would be added weight to hold down he garage. By now I wasn't able to move much. I was cold and stiff. But the trough came straight at me and I managed to grab hold of it. Quite a feat, and it did seem to stabilize the garage.

“All kinds of things were being carried along by the water. Railways sleepers, then a large pole... I grabbed the pole. I wedged one end of it into the pig trough, and the other into the branches of a nearby sycamore tree, thinking this would give even more stability to the garage.

"The next worry was a nearby electrical transformer mounted on poles. I knew that water and electricity do not mix well. However my fears were groundless. When the water reached the height of the tranformer there were a few sparks, then the lights of the village went out.

"Water entered the houses, putting out the living room fires. The fires went out in the Swallows pub, in my granny's living room, in the house nearest the church... You could see the fire glows, then they went out as the water came up. I began to think I wasn't going to see tomorrow.

“The water was still rising. I began to plan a move across into the tree. I could perhaps cling onto its branches until someone came to rescue me. My family knew where I was. By this time lights had appeared up the Holt Road, near Church Lane. There seemed to be a lot of activity, but I was concentrating on just trying to survive. I put my legs round the pole and crawled across into the tree. The sycamore was quite flimsy and rocked violently, even though I only weigh ten stone.

"To my horror I discovered that the tree was full of rats. They were hanging onto the branches like bunches of grapes. I tried to shake the tree so that the rats would fall off. The noise of their screams when they realised they were going back into the water was dreadful. Something I cannot describe. They desperately clung to the branches, realising that if they fell off they were going to their deaths. I got rid of them though.

“Then I settled down in the tree, perched in the branches, taking stock. The sea between me and the church and Holt Road was rough. Large waves were coming across The Green being driven by the gale. Sleet and rain were still coming down very hard. There were lights and cars up Holt Road. The rescue services had arrived.

I thought that the water had begun to go down. I made a little mark with my thumb nail on the tree. When I looked at it a few minutes later the water had gone beneath the mark. You can imagine how I felt. I got back onto the garage roof and flopped down, exhausted.

"I thought I was safe, but I was beginning my worst time. I had been standing in sea water which to some extent had kept me warm, but now the water had gone. I was lying on a garage roof, and hypothermia was setting in.

"A noise aroused me. An army vehicle was coming slowly in the darkness down the Holt Road, past the church and Fair View, where my grandparents lived and moving very slowly. It was a Matador, able to be driven in deep water. I learned later that its driver was standing on the driver's seat, controlling the steering wheel with outstretched arms.

"A bright light started to sweep over the water, coming slowly towards me. I waved frantically. It went past me, then came back again. I had been found.

"I was beginning to feel woozy. The motion of the water around me was beginning to have the same effect on me as I would feel if I was in a boat. I began to feel sea sick. However a real boat arived with men in it. As it got nearer I could see two men rowing for all they were worth. All of a sudden a large wave took them back as quick as they had come. The boat tipped over and the men were washed out of it. Fortunately they were immediately rescued.

"Now the boat came again, with a new crew. The first two men had not dared try again. I learned later that there were a hundred people, and no-one answered when they were asked who wanted to try and reach me. But then someone came forward, a man called Billy Pilsop Bishop. And then another, Ian Causell. They rowed across The Green towards me. The sea was still rough, the wind blowing. I had my fingers crossed hoping that another wave wouldn’t come towards me. Quite quickly they got to the garage and I can remember one man asking, 'Are you going to row Buttercup?'

“I said, ‘No I think I will leave that to you tonight.’ I don't remember much more until I was in somewhere with lights in the ceiling. It was the Holt Ambulance. I was to be taken to hospital.
To my dismay I was taken out of the ambulance. Later I learned that it was too far to take me to Cromer Hospital. I would have died long before we got there. The man who told me said that he had seen lots of dying men in the war but had never seen anyone as near dead as I was.

I was taken to the little bungalow belonging to Mrs. Micklejohn. I was laid in front of a large roaring fire and a nurse tried to get some brandy into my mouth with a feeding cup. My mouth was shut tight. I can remember thinking what a waste of good brandy. It was running down my chin onto my clothes. Amazingly I soon came round. Two nurses massaged me for a considerable time. To everyone's delight I seemed to be alright.

“Later they brought in a very elderly lady from the village, affectionately known as Gentle Annie. She had been rescued by the services from her bedroom in Cley Street. They said the water had enetered her bedroom. By then I was fit enough to start to massage her body. She came back to life eventually. By then the time was about 2 am. We sat in these lovely big armchairs in front of the fire until daylight.

“Two or three days later I was walking with some friends along the tide mark near Mr Harry Ramm’s field. We came across a chicken coop. In it there was a large white cockerel, upright on a perch, dead as could be. Presumably he had died of fright or the water came up and over him so quick he was frozen to the perch.

“That’s about all I can think of to say about it except to thank Mr. Bishop, Mr. Stevenson and Mr. Causell who saved my life.”

Applause broke out when Buttercup Joe finished his story. It was decided then to have a break for tea. Martin and Mary wandered around, greeting people they knew. Martin suddenly noticed the people from Heron House. He rushed up to them, “I can’t thank you enough. Or your cousin actually, for rescuing my wife on the night of the storm. I so much wanted her to tell everyone about it, but she thinks your cousin wouldn’t want the limelight.”

His words met with a blank stare. “Young man, I do not know who you are, or what you are talking about. I have no cousin in this area, shy or otherwise. I do not wish to continue this conversation.”

Martin was astonished at the rudeness of the man. Mary was bright red with embarrassment.
“Please don’t make a fuss,” she whispered to Martin. With a great deal of effort, he pulled himself togethe.

The second pat of the evening was about to begin.