Damp, dank and desolate – three words to describe my once cosy cottage.
A year has passed since it was flooded during Storm Babet, with the Kerbet Burn, normally a calm, shallow, stretch of water, turning into a raging torrent.
It’s been a stressful 12 months waiting for it all to be put back together. And I’m still waiting: it’s a long way off being anything approaching habitable.
So what’s the hold up? I can only imagine any delays are down to the fact that so many people were affected by the floods, some of them far worse than myself.
Many homes in Brechin were devastated by mud, with muddy, contaminated water inundating their homes, causing furniture to tip and float.
I was lucky to have missed out on the mud.
But with the spotlight on Brechin, and rightly so, there’s the temptation to feel that those of us who live in Kinnettles have been forgotten.
It’s an area of Angus that few seem to have heard of, and certainly, Kinnettles hasn’t hit the Storm Babet headlines.
My neighbour was also flooded by the Kerbet, but she’s in the same situation – no further on.
Flood-hit homes are depressing – a year on
A visit to our homes, is, quite frankly, depressing.
Piles of rotting, flood-damaged wood and rubble clutter up my garden, despite promises it would be removed months ago.
Goodness knows what’s living underneath it all. Hedgehogs? Mice and rats?
The patio doors – the main entrance – swelled up with water entering my house on October 19 last year, and they no longer open or close properly.
The hope is that they’ll be replaced, but until then, it’s a battle getting in – and out.
Inside, it’s cold – and on my last visit, it was colder inside the house than out.
There’s no way of heating the place to take off the autumn chill because the radiators have been disconnected and currently sit stacked in a corner.
As a result, it feels damp, it smells damp, and, we all know that cold, damp houses are breeding grounds for mould.
Work to reinstate home just started
But it’s not all gloom and doom. Work started to “reinstate” my house on September 30, and while things don’t seem to be moving fast, things are at least happening.
The last few days have seen chipboard laid on top of foundations, sheets of plaster board fitted, and new flooring ordered.
I’ve had measurements taken for carpeted areas, and a loose agreement that the insurance company will stump up for the damaged kitchen units – but only the base units, and not the wall units, which jars somewhat.
The question of when I might be able to move back in is not one I can answer, simply because I have no idea. I just know there’s a LOT of work yet to be done.
On a positive note, the road that washed away beside my home, and remained closed until mid-September, has been fixed and re-opened.
For almost a year, my neighbours on the other side of it – and the local farmer on his twice-daily missions to check on cattle – had to take a lengthy detour.
So having spent a year NOT living in my home, I can only hope that things will move a bit more quickly.
While others have moved into rented accommodation, I’ve had a mix of staying at my mum’s in Aberdeenshire and in hotels down in Tayside and Fife.
The fear of flooding again is all too real
The worst thing about all this? The fear of being flooded again – because, as far as I’m aware, nothing has been done to prevent this from happening.
Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.
And can you imagine! Imagine getting the house put back together, with shiny new flooring and carpets, plaster and paint work, white goods, furniture, and so on… to have it deluged by contaminated water again.
I know of some unfortunates in Brechin who’ve been flooded four or five times over the decades, so it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that this could happen again.
Let’s just hope not on the scale of Storm Babet.
It’s no surprise my insurance has tripled. Yes, tripled. But if my cottage floods again, what happens?
The insurance quadruples? Nobody will insure it? It certainly leaves me with an unsettling feeling about the future.
I’ve had friends suggest I sell up. But I don’t want to sell – I love my wee cottage. And plus, who would buy it now?
I jokingly suggested that it could be rebuilt on stilts which is actually maybe not a bad idea. But I’m pretty sure I don’t have the funds to do that.
Reflecting on anniversary of Storm Babet
As I reflect on the anniversary of Babet, I think back to the immediate aftermath of the disaster.
My first instinct was to tear up sodden carpets and do my best to dry the place out with small domestic dehumidifiers. It proved an insurmountable task.
While I waited for the insurance company to bring in their industrial dryers, I watched as green mould appeared on furniture, and then black mould began to grow on walls.
It was not a healthy place to linger.
Wooden floorboards soon began to warp and buckle, and I am not exaggerating when I say they became a trip hazard in places.
I came close to knocking myself out on my wood burning stove after stumbling over my own flooring on several occasions.
What will the future bring?
I’m trying to be proactive, to think about things I could do to prevent future flooding, but would flood gates, or any sort of flood defence mechanism, actually work?
In desperation, I emailed Angus Council‘s roads department (I also annoyed their infrastructure department) and received some helpful replies.
I’m told the area surrounding my house has already been assessed, but that a member of the flooding team would be happy to visit me to discuss matters.
He or she will look at whether there are any “additional contributory measures” that could be further investigated for action.
I look forward to this meeting, and can only pray for less rain this autumn and winter.
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