Climate Change To Drown London

Postcards from the future: illustrators imagine how London could be affected by climate change

ScreenHunter_150 Dec. 06 14.21

Postcards from the future: illustrators imagine how London could be affected by climate change – Telegraph

This could happen, because it has happened several times over the last 1,000 years.

The earliest written record of flooding along the Thames Estuary is from the Anglo Saxon Chronicle of 1099. Numerous floods have been recorded since then. In 1236 the river was reported as ‘…overflowing wherein the great Palace of Westminster men did row with wherries…’ In 1663 Samuel Pepys recorded ‘…the greatest tide that ever was remembered…all Whitehall having been drowned…’

Flood risk management in the Thames Estuary looking ahead 100 years

One hundred thousand people died in the 1099 flood, but during the Dark Ages no one was stupid enough to blame it on CO2.

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6 Responses to Climate Change To Drown London

  1. Andy DC says:

    The UK and the rest of western Europe are now locked into a frigid pattern, as are Korea and Japan. Expect the extreme cold to make headlines over the next week or so, unless the LSM suppresses the news.

  2. Lance says:

    No, they didn’t blame co2, it was witches!! In present day co2 = witches

  3. Billy Liar says:

    ‘… all Whitehall having been drowned…’ – that sounds appealing! :)

  4. Paul says:

    What you people forget is that the inhabitants were burning wood to keep warm and cook the meat they caught the forest. I think it’s safe to say that this point in time was when carbon dioxide levels began to rise and the effects on the climate were felt through the flooding of London.
    It only takes a rise of 2 parts per million to cause flooding of approximately six feet. Research that and see I’m right.

  5. LLAP says:

    @Paul: I googled the following: “2 ppm CO2 + flooding 6 feet”. Many of the links I got were for growing cannabis.

  6. palantir says:

    The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire

    Jean Ingelow (1820–97)

    1571

    THE OLD mayor climb’d the belfry tower,
    The ringers ran by two, by three;
    “Pull, if ye never pull’d before;
    Good ringers, pull your best,” quoth he.
    “Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells! 5
    Ply all your changes, all your swells,
    Play uppe, ‘The Brides of Enderby.’ ”

    Men say it was a stolen tyde—
    The Lord that sent it, He knows all;
    But in myne ears doth still abide 10
    The message that the bells let fall:
    And there was nought of strange, beside
    The flight of mews and peewits pied
    By millions crouch’d on the old sea wall.

    I sat and spun within the doore, 15
    My thread brake off, I rais’d myne eyes;
    The level sun, like ruddy ore,
    Lay sinking in the barren skies;
    And dark against day’s golden death
    She moved where Lindis wandereth, 20
    My sonne’s faire wife, Elizabeth.

    “Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!” calling,
    Ere the early dews were falling,
    Farre away I heard her song,
    “Cusha! Cusha!” all along; 25
    Where the reedy Lindis floweth,
    Floweth, floweth,
    From the meads where melick groweth
    Faintly came her milking song—

    “Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!” calling, 30
    “For the dews will soone be falling;
    Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
    Mellow, mellow;
    Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
    Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot; 35
    Quit the stalks of parsley hollow,
    Hollow, hollow;
    Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow,
    From the clovers lift your head;
    Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot, 40
    Come uppe, Jetty, rise and follow,
    Jetty, to the milking shed.”

    If it be long, ay, long ago,
    When I beginne to think howe long,
    Againe I hear the Lindis flow, 45
    Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and strong;
    And all the aire, it seemeth mee,
    Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee),
    That ring the tune of Enderby.

    Alle fresh the level pasture lay, 50
    And not a shadowe mote be seene,
    Save where full fyve good miles away
    The steeple tower’d from out the greene;
    And lo! the great bell farre and wide
    Was heard in all the country side 55
    That Saturday at eventide.

    The swanherds where their sedges are
    Mov’d on in sunset’s golden breath,
    The shepherde lads I heard afarre,
    And my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth; 60
    Till floating o’er the grassy sea
    Came downe that kyndly message free,
    The “Brides of Mavis Enderby.”

    Then some look’d uppe into the sky,
    And all along where Lindis flows 65
    To where the goodly vessels lie,
    And where the lordly steeple shows.
    They sayde, “And why should this thing be?
    What danger lowers by land or sea?
    They ring the tune of Enderby! 70

    “For evil news from Mablethorpe,
    Of pyrate galleys warping down;
    For shippes ashore beyond the scorpe,
    They have not spar’d to wake the towne:
    But while the west bin red to see, 75
    And storms be none, and pyrates flee,
    Why ring ‘The Brides of Enderby’?”

    I look’d without, and lo! my sonne
    Came riding downe with might and main:
    He rais’d a shout as he drew on, 80
    Till all the welkin rang again,
    “Elizabeth! Elizabeth!”
    (A sweeter woman ne’er drew breath
    Than my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth.)

    “The olde sea wall (he cried) is downe, 85
    The rising tide comes on apace,
    And boats adrift in yonder towne
    Go sailing uppe the marketplace.”
    He shook as one that looks on death:
    “God save you, mother!” straight he saith; 90
    “Where is my wife, Elizabeth?”

    “Good sonne, where Lindis winds her way,
    With her two bairns I marked her long;
    And ere you bells beganne to play
    Afar I heard her milking song.” 95
    He looked across the grassy lea,
    To right, to left, “Ho, Enderby!”
    They rang “The Brides of Enderby!”

    With that he cried and beat his breast;
    For, lo! along the river’s bed 100
    A mighty eygre rear’d his crest,
    And uppe the Lindis raging sped.
    It swept with thunderous noises loud;
    Shap’d like a curling snow-white cloud,
    Or like a demon in a shroud. 105

    And rearing Lindis backward press’d
    Shook all her trembling bankes amaine;
    Then madly at the eygre’s breast
    Flung uppe her weltering walls again.
    Then bankes came downe with ruin and rout— 110
    Then beaten foam flew round about—
    Then all the mighty floods were out.

    So farre, so fast the eygre drave,
    The heart had hardly time to beat
    Before a shallow seething wave 115
    Sobb’d in the grasses at oure feet:
    The feet had hardly time to flee
    Before it brake against the knee,
    And all the world was in the sea.

    Upon the roofe we sate that night, 120
    The noise of bells went sweeping by;
    I mark’d the lofty beacon light
    Stream from the church tower, red and high—
    A lurid mark and dread to see;
    And awsome bells they were to mee, 125
    That in the dark rang “Enderby.”

    They rang the sailor lads to guide
    From roofe to roofe who fearless row’d;
    And I—my sonne was at my side,
    And yet the ruddy beacon glow’d: 130
    And yet he moan’d beneath his breath,
    “O come in life, or come in death!
    O lost! my love, Elizabeth.”

    And didst thou visit him no more?
    Thou didst, thou didst, my daughter deare; 135
    The waters laid thee at his doore,
    Ere yet the early dawn was clear.
    Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
    The lifted sun shone on thy face,
    Downe drifted to thy dwelling place. 140

    That flow strew’d wrecks about the grass,
    That ebbe swept out the flocks to sea;
    A fatal ebbe and flow, alas!
    To manye more than myne and mee;
    But each will mourn his own (she saith); 145
    And sweeter woman ne’er drew breath
    Than my sonne’s wife, Elizabeth.

    I shall never hear her more
    By the reedy Lindis shore,
    “Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!” calling, 150
    Ere the early dews be falling;
    I shall never hear her song,
    “Cusha! Cusha!” all along
    Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
    Goeth, floweth; 155
    From the meads where melick groweth,
    When the water winding down,
    Onward floweth to the town.

    I shall never see her more
    Where the reeds and rushes quiver, 160
    Shiver, quiver;
    Stand beside the sobbing river,
    Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling
    To the sandy lonesome shore;
    I shall never hear her calling, 165
    “Leave your meadow grasses mellow,
    Mellow, mellow;
    Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow;
    Come uppe, Whitefoot, come uppe, Lightfoot;
    Quit your pipes of parsley hollow, 170
    Hollow, hollow;
    Come uppe, Lightfoot, rise and follow;
    Lightfoot, Whitefoot,
    From your clovers lift the head;
    Come uppe, Jetty, follow, follow, 175
    Jetty, to the milking shed.”

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