Praise to the Yellow Men
Old trees and weak trees totter and fall at the onset of another winter, there are power outages and some flash floods, and a little property damage from the high winds. We have experienced worse. It was not so bad.
But the weather forecasters are telling us already to get prepared for another very harsh winter. They say it could arrive as early as the middle of October. They say we could have sharp frosts and even snow by then.
And I say that it is opportune to give praise and thanks in advance to those I call the Yellow Men. They are the hardy and skilful battalions in the high-visibility jackets who go out into the fangs of every storm that affects us, day and night, and do their level best to protect us from the worst consequences. I’m sure there are a few women amongst them nowadays too, but those high-vis waistcoats make all of them look bulkily alike, those tough angels of mercy whose busy season is just beginning. They are mighty people. How many of them, one wonders, will be working again on Christmas Day? Some usually are.
They restore our power when the lines come down, or a transformer is stricken by lightning. They restore landlines. They grit and salt our slippery roads so we can travel with reasonable care.
They cut up the fallen trees across roads with quite remarkable speed.
They ease the floods when that is possible. They arrive in their tenders to quench chimney fires or worse outbreaks and save many lives.
They man the ambulances of mercy. They man the checkpoints and control the scenes around traffic accidents. Whether they are ESB men or firemen or gardaí or county council staff, one often cannot tell. They are all just Yellow Men doing their work quickly and efficiently in and around the places where they are needed.
Too often, we don’t really see them. Too often, we don’t acknowledge the work they do. How often do we stop and say thanks? How often, when the lights come back in the dead of night, do we think of the work of the linesmen up on poles in the teeth of storms and cold weather, often for the third or fourth night running? It is quite incredible, when you think of it, that the outages are so relatively brief, even in the very worst weather conditions. Likewise, when the water mains are affected and burst by frosts.
Those ranks and files of Yellow Men do magnificent work, winter after winter. And it is worth noting that most of that is done when their bosses are in bed!
They are special people, all of them. If they happen to be working close to your kitchen this winter, make sure they are not left short of hot drinks or anything they need. They are working for you and yours after all. And they will appreciate even a cup of tea or coffee.
I recall an especially harsh winter in Connemara. The water main burst on the roadside outside our house. It was bitterly cold all the hours a Galway County Council crew were repairing the damage.
We had about a half-bottle of whiskey in the house, and we turned it into hot punch, and brought it out to them with two mugs. Months later, we were attending the mighty Bogmans’ Ball in Maam Cross, and next thing, enough drink began to land on the table to stagger a regiment. It was some time before we discovered it was a gesture of thanks from the Yellow Men at a neighbouring table. They are the salt of the earth, our Yellow Men, then and now.
Speaking of salt, one hopes that their bosses in council offices throughout the land, given bitter experience, have taken steps to ensure that this year the Yellow Men attached to the local authorities will have sufficient stocks of salt and grit for the long winter ahead. Stocks were too tight for the past two years, and they ran out early. There are no excuses this winter, if that happens again.
I’m sure most of the Yellow Men get substantial overtime pay for their vital work. I hope there is no nitpicking or excess paperwork, because it is hard-earned, and always under the most difficult of circumstances.
I’ve been under fire in this space recently over matters relating to our flora and fauna. Maybe the bright yellow owls of the wildest winter days and nights are the most vital element of that.
Join me, as the first hurricane slowly disappears towards Scotland, in saying thanks in advance to our Yellow Men.
