Eyafjallajokull

I know I am going to get into trouble for this. I know that before I even start. But I have quite enjoyed the whole saga of Eyafjallajokull (I put that in only to prove that I can spell it!) and the ash cloud which has spread across Europe.

That does not mean that I am not sympathetic to the thousands and thousand of British and Italian citizens who have been stranded in different countries all over the world unable to return home. It does not mean that I do not feel sorry for the hundreds of tired and lost holidaymakers that the British Consulate team have been helping on to buses down at the Stazione Centrale. It does not mean that I do not sympathise with the airlines and the other businesses that have got into financial difficulties, with the people in Kenya or Guatemala whose flowers and fresh vegetables cannot be flown to European markets, or with those people who should have been with their families at a time of crisis or emergency.

Of course, I am sorry about these things.

But there is something inside me which says it might have been a good thing for us to receive a reminder of just how helpless man is in the face of huge natural forces. We take it all so much for granted. I expect to be able to jump on a plane in Milan at 7 a.m., arrive in Gatwick, catch a train and reach central in London in time for a 10 a.m. meeting. The ash cloud has reminded us that flying is something really quite remarkable; that it is a privilege; that having a glass of Chianti while travelling at 600 kilometres an hour a kilometre up in the sky is something which our ancestors would have found surreal.

And I have enjoyed the fact that way in which stranded tourists have helped each other out; the way one lady simply threw her arms around a member of the Consulate staff when she knew there was a place on a bus to England for her; the way the British Consul in Venice draped himself in the Union Jack at the railway station as the best way of letting people know who he was; the way the Milan police helped make sure the buses could park safely; the way the British bus drivers were so cheerful and helpful to their passengers. Crises can bring out the best in people. Yes, I know that’s terribly English – the spirit of Dunkirk and the Blitz – but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

Dr. Laurence Bristow-Smith
H M British Consul General
& Director General for Trade