Misinformation Regarding the Shipping Forecast

For many years I had only the haziest idea of where the various areas repeatedly referred to in the iconic Shipping Forecast might actually be in relation to us in the South of England. Although Thames, Dover and Plymouth were obvious enough, Viking, Forties and Dogger remained a mystery for decades and Faeroes, Hebrides, Cromarty and Malin only emerged with a reality that could be just half-imagined when my brother’s interest in birds of prey took him to the furthest reaches of Northern Scotland. Even as a young adult my knowledge was sketchy and embarrassingly I distinctly remember the excitement of applying for a job at a weather station on one of The Falkland Islands as a shorthand typist. I now feel certain that I had found the advertisement on the front page of The Times, at a time when The Times still had those front page advertisements. Upon investigation I found that it was a place where I would find stunning beaches, an abundance of wildlife and a town called Stanley. Perhaps also a great deal of bad weather, at least that’s what I was hoping for. How desperately I wanted that job, simply because I was certain it would take me somewhere between Faeroes and South East Iceland where undoubtedly I would feel an integral part of the Shipping Forecast for a year or two. A cautionary note sounded when I was told I would be entitled to paid annual leave in Argentina. Even I in my ignorance was completely aware that Argentina had never once featured in the much loved broadcasts over the years of my addiction. Extricating myself from the two year contract that I had been so keen to sign only minutes beforehand was awkward.
I blame The Wireless because it had been very much a part of my childhood and it was odd to walk into the house and find it not playing in the background. This did not apply only to us of course, but to most families around us. Even when television burst onto the scene it never entirely weakened our collective love of The Wireless. I don’t remember being a great fan of Children’s Hour during the war years but I was probably too young to appreciate Uncle Mac. On the other hand when The Shipping Forecast resumed some time in 1946 it took me no time at all to become completely captivated. I now realise I was not alone and even my mother was heard to comment favourably when the much loved segment reappeared and remark to the aunts that its absence had been on account of Hitler. We in the British Isles had no desire to be helpful to Hateful Hitler and his U-boats by handing out too much information regarding conditions at sea. Had we not promptly acted there might well have been an Invasion and where would we all be now if that had been the case? Speaking German no doubt! She had always been strangely confident that the entire population would have taken to German effortlessly and on command. Fortunately for us, none of this eventuated and once the ringing of church bells resumed, so did advice to shipping. Even my grandmother who had paid little attention to conditions on the high seas welcomed the return of the bells and to children of my age, having never heard them before, they were a novel enigma. My cousin Margaret importantly informed me that had they sounded in wartime it would have meant one thing – the dreaded Invasion. Then every village bell ringer would have hurried to sound them loud and clear to warn neighbouring settlements. She said nothing about The Shipping Forecast possibly because its return was to her not quite as dramatic as bell ringing. Nevertheless its strangely hypnotic rhythm soon became as much a part of childhood to me as the reassuring radio chime of Big Ben, the only church bell I had ever known, sounding the hour at various times throughout the day.
At some stage I became aware that the repetitive programming was produced by the Met Office and apparently broadcast four times daily. This may or may not have always been the case because I only reliably remember it late at night although what I was doing awake around midnight at the age of seven or eight is anybody’s guess. Nevertheless for years the Shipping Forecast was essential to me, surpassing even ITMA and Much Binding In the Marsh and definitely knocking Children’s Hour out of the running. I showed little interest in Malcolm Savile’s Gay Dolphin Adventure which was serialized shortly after the war and followed enthusiastically by my older cousins but somehow or other what was in store for fishing fleets became information I was unable to do without. I can distinctly recall giving a little shiver of delight as the soporific mantra began to intone …… Viking, Forties, Cromarty, Forth, Tyne, Dogger…… and I once again slipped into the curious late night ritual that preceded sleep.
When I was very young I have to admit that I was only vaguely aware that the strangely exotic words were names somehow connected to the seas that surrounded our island but as I grew a little older my mind would begin to sleepily explore the connected landscape, scanning the coastline and examining the water’s edge as the North Kent Marshland linked with the darkly ominous estuary. Then onward with courage into the more mysterious depths of the North Sea, spoken of at school by Mr Will Clark in his introduction to the history of our country when he assured us we had resisted the advances of Viking and Norman invasion. What harm could possibly come to us, nestling within our sceptered isle whilst violent forecasts for Fisher, German Bight, Humber and Thames impeded the progress of all would be marauders? It would be a hardy plunderer indeed that would consider breaching the darkly churning waters of Dover, Wight, and Portland .
Invariably as the three minute bulletin drew to a close, somehow I would have fallen asleep, safely tucked up in my bed and knowing very little of the perils involved in venturing out to sea. And possibly this ignorance can be forgiven as the only vessels I was familiar with were the Gravesend Bawleys that had the good sense to fish only for shrimps and largely avoid bad weather. Things might have been different had we lived in Hastings or Dover where perhaps the weather mattered more.
Regardless of how much the weather did or didn’t matter, however, clearly the iconic broadcast had a huge impact on me and countless others and it was with some surprise and much pleasure when many years later I heard it featured on Desert Island Discs. More recently I have come to realise that it is much admired by a host of modern poets such as Sean Street with his Shipping Forecast Donegal. One of my Auckland neighbours, hailing originally from The Midlands, is absolutely certain she heard a portion of it on an old late night episode of a re-run of Prime Suspect only a month ago. People of some note are even said to mention it in diary entries.
Despite years of firm fanship it has always been challenging to accept the terms used and what the jargon might actually mean. The weather terms are almost an argot no matter how patiently the Beaufort Scale is explained. Ordinary groups of words take on a meaning that sounds perverse such as rain later – good. Veering north-westerly five or six, decreasing four. Rain then showers moderate. I now know that wind direction generally is given first followed by strength on the Beaufort scale then precipitation followed by visibility. Wind direction is indicated by veering which simply means clockwise or backing – anti-clockwise. Strong winds above force 8 are described as Severe Gale 9, Storm 10, Violent Storm 11 and Hurricane 12. Visibility is described as good which means you can see about five nautical miles, moderate where you can see between two and five nautical miles and poor where you can see very little. Lastly when you can see nothing at all the conditions are described as fog.
This information ensures that it all becomes clearer and substantially less mysterious but then of course it is not always necessary to understand the language or even the reasons behind it much like not needing to have complete comprehension of the Mass in Latin. Nor is it necessary to examine why after all these years, the forecasts are still broadcast at all let alone four times daily in a time when even the most modest vessel could be presumed to have adequate technology on board to provide the safety net needed. Perhaps mariners like the rest of us simply have a need to hear the mantra, to be assured that all is well with the world, to feel safe.