Fire stations, in London at least, have drill towers. They're usually square brick structures with concrete floors and open windows to all four sides.
One of the funniest things I've seen, drill tower-wise, was at a south London station, the day before our open day / fête / charity fund-raising day. We'd begged and borrowed one of those huge bouncy castles.
“We'd better test it before tomorrow.”
So we inflated it, a the foot of the drill tower. Testing involved jumping out of successively higher floors, to see how far back we'd bounce, before the threat to life and limb became too much to bear. Highlights were Ernie, who was bit of an Olga Korbut in waiting. Awaiting drill tower / bouncy castle becoming an olympic gymnastics event. And Herpes landing on his head on the drill yard, and amazingly, getting up unscathed. Laughter turned to terror, to relief, and back to laughter when it was clear that he was still alive and no more dazed than usual.
More than one drill tower had a basement, one was regularly sandbagged and flooded to improvise a very small, very cold swimming pool on very hot summer days. Until the station electrics control boards were relocated to the drill tower basement. We found that out the hard way. Luckily we had an electrician on the watch, and he managed to get us back on the grid and off the emergency generator. Only after all he red wristbands were out of the pool, and things had dried out a bit, obviously.
Drill towers and the nature of temptation: this may offer some insight into the workings of some minds at least. Here's the facts:
You are on the 4th floor of the drill tower. You have in your hands a nozzle, connected to a 70 mm diameter hose, discharging gallons of water at a pressure of about 4 bars. Discharging shedloads of water.
Below, unarmed, are a bunch of workmates who have dodged out of the ladder climbing, hose-hauling part of the exercise.
Though unarmed, they have all the equipment they could need to get armed, quickly, at their disposal.
Critically, they control your supply of water.
Logic and common sense suggest that it is suicide to give in to temptation and give them a soaking. Can you resist?
No. Neither could I. Ever.
Immigrant Song
Is it important to feel wanted and trusted? You'd need to look up where those sit on that scale of human hygiene hierarchy table.
I suspect that, after the basic hygiene needs: the roof, the food, the heat source, that the need to feel wanted, welcomed, and trusted are fairly low down the pyramid (making them important factors in overall wellbeing).
It is some time since I felt remotely comfortable during working hours. Clients and employers increasingly wanting more for less.
Endless, will-to-live-sapping questioning of every decision and piece of advice. If you know better, then what do you need me for? Exactly? Leave me alone and do it yourself, save us both the grief.
Now the news that 51% of the British don't think you can fit in here without British ancestry. No doubt that 51% is 45% in some areas, and rises elsewhere, but, without getting hung up on things, about half of the nation don't think I belong here. Way to out out the welcome mat, guys.
Maybe more of you need to read one of your best living authors.
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