Water (Water) overal

There’s no doubt about it. There is definitely a lot of water in this part of the world.  

The stuff is absolutely everywhere.  And it comes at you from all directions.  Hammering down from the swirling dark and menacing clouds above, battering sideways into your face aided by a savage, merciless icy wind and from below, where the endless water canals, ditches and dijks criss-cross the misty sodden flat lands as far as the eye can see.

But despite the Roman author, Pliny the Elder, once describing these lowlands as “a pitiful land flooded twice a day”, the Dutch, over time, seem to have made a pretty good job of making it feel like home.

A successful, thriving, forward-thinking society built on a swamp.

In fact they’ve been as busy as beavers for centuries constantly keeping the water at bay, building dams and claiming and reclaiming land from the sea.  

So much so, they are now world experts and their skills are in high demand from other countries, including the UK.

But, rather worryingly, one third of the Netherlands is below sea level and two-thirds is continually vulnerable to flooding.

So there's no rest for the Dutch. They are constantly on water-watch.  Or at least the Waterschappen are.

These regional water control boards are the oldest existing democratic bodies in the Netherlands dating back to the 13th century.

And to emphasise just how important the Dutch see the role of the Waterschappen, no matter how financially-difficult times have got in the past, the budget for these water companies has never been compromised on.  

And that’s really good to hear, because as I write this, I am sitting an unnerving 8 metres below sea level.

In old money, that's as tall as two giraffes standing on top of each other.

So, if the North Sea decided to pay an unexpected visit, our whole house, right up to the attic, would immediately be engulfed by gallons of cold, dirty seawater, a tonne of plastic and a sack load of bemused fish.  

I have reflected on this possible doomsday scenario on numerous occasions since moving here.  

To the point of obsession.

So, although the Dutch are dammed-water experts, and all citizens pay a lot of water tax to the waterschappen to maintain the dijks and to protect us, I’m thinking I might also need a back up plan.  Just in case.

Because the worst case scenario is definitely not worth thinking about.

But because my wife informs me that moving house to the higher plains in the east is definitely not an option, a plan B is needed.  (Note to wife: Houses are a lot cheaper there)

So I have decided to buy a dingy.

And shall keep it in the attic for a rainy day.  

Therefore should soggy Armageddon come, I can calmly put down my cup of tea and sweep up the stairs scooping up the family as I go.  We can then burst into the attic, inflate the dingy in a flash and we're away..

Straight out of the attic window in the nick of time. 

And off we’ll jolly well go.  Bobbing along happily on top of the murky waves, slaloming between the protruding chimney tops and bumping into other like-minded souls in their assorted vessels.

We can float along until we're picked up by a passing ship and deposited on dry land, preferably somewhere near a cafe.  

Then it’s beer and bitterballen all round.

But up to 1852, where I am sitting right now was very definitely underwater.

For centuries, Haarlemmemeer was a wild and stormy lake that continually threatened to flood Haarlem and Amsterdam, as well as sinking countless ships.

So, finally, after a couple of centuries of procrastination and dithering, the authorities finally decided to drain it.

Meanwhile back to the present-day polder and although the lake has now long gone, there are times when the wind is blowing, the rain is lashing and the house is creaking, I can close my eyes and hear the sound of the waves battering a small wooden vessel, and I imagine how the sailors desperately fought against the elements, and fought for their survival against a cruel and merciless sea.

And just down the road, legend has it that Schiphol airport was so-named as a reminder of the area’s turbulent past.    

'Schip' meaning ship and 'hol' meaning grave.   

It’s also the world’s lowest-lying airport at 10m below sea level.

That's another half a giraffe on top of my two.

Might need a bigger boat.