Long term spectator sport
Thursday, April 29th, 2004 04:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caddymanToday it has been mostly raining. Not too heavily, but with a certain gusto nonetheless. In fact, since Tuesday afternoon when it was less rain and more high tide, the periods of rain have far out numbered the periods of dry weather.
By and large, this is liveable. I mean, temperatures are rather cool admittedly, but they are balanced by the high humidity, which allows you to feel grimy and tired all the time, but without any of that pesky heat to accompany it.
Spring in the city, eh?
In any event, this has got me thinking. I seem to recall reading somewhere many years ago, that with the decline of heavy industry in London, and the inexorable move to a service-based tertiary economy, water extraction from the aquifers beneath the city has fallen dramatically in the past 50 years or so. This means that excepting the occasional drought, more water is getting into the ground than is being taken out or draining naturally.
The water table is rising, and some of the deeper tube stations are permanently being pumped to keep water levels down. Now, where is this going, you ask yourself?
Well, it's like this, see: all along the Thames valley, and certainly that section that runs through London, the bedrock is largely London clay. Clay shrinks when it is dry and expands when wet. Although fewer in number than before 1940 when Mr Hitler's Luftwaffe began the process of modern urban replanning, there remain substantial numbers of Victorian and pre-war buildings, not all of which have very deep foundations. Adequate, but not very deep. Now, these buildings were erected when water extraction was at its height, and the clay at its driest.
I do find myself wondering if there will come a point in the future when the expanding London clay expels these buildings by squeezing them like zits and whether they will make an equally satisfying pop when it happens. I mean, do you think it would be possible to predict the where and when of it all and book a suitable viewing position atop Hampstead Heath with a bucket of popcorn and watch the Guildhall pop into the air like a piece of wet soap?
I'd like to think so.
By and large, this is liveable. I mean, temperatures are rather cool admittedly, but they are balanced by the high humidity, which allows you to feel grimy and tired all the time, but without any of that pesky heat to accompany it.
Spring in the city, eh?
In any event, this has got me thinking. I seem to recall reading somewhere many years ago, that with the decline of heavy industry in London, and the inexorable move to a service-based tertiary economy, water extraction from the aquifers beneath the city has fallen dramatically in the past 50 years or so. This means that excepting the occasional drought, more water is getting into the ground than is being taken out or draining naturally.
The water table is rising, and some of the deeper tube stations are permanently being pumped to keep water levels down. Now, where is this going, you ask yourself?
Well, it's like this, see: all along the Thames valley, and certainly that section that runs through London, the bedrock is largely London clay. Clay shrinks when it is dry and expands when wet. Although fewer in number than before 1940 when Mr Hitler's Luftwaffe began the process of modern urban replanning, there remain substantial numbers of Victorian and pre-war buildings, not all of which have very deep foundations. Adequate, but not very deep. Now, these buildings were erected when water extraction was at its height, and the clay at its driest.
I do find myself wondering if there will come a point in the future when the expanding London clay expels these buildings by squeezing them like zits and whether they will make an equally satisfying pop when it happens. I mean, do you think it would be possible to predict the where and when of it all and book a suitable viewing position atop Hampstead Heath with a bucket of popcorn and watch the Guildhall pop into the air like a piece of wet soap?
I'd like to think so.