And now for the weather: generalised anxiety and spells of panic

GIVE ME A BREAK:THE SNOWMEN have melted, there's no more tobogganing on local hills and, as I wrote this column yesterday, my children could easily have been in school. It was bizarre that they were home, considering that last Thursday and Friday, at the height of the big freeze, all three made it through the ice and snow to school, and quite enjoyed the adventure, writes KATE HOLMQUIST

We woke up yesterday morning with the kids facing into three “snow days” with no snow, but the big thaw that arrived to many parts of the country on Sunday meant that, by lunchtime yesterday, the Minister for Education, Batt O’Keeffe, had rescinded his blanket closure of all schools and handed the matter back to boards of management, where it should have been all along. Happiness for parents – disappointment for children.

As I write, Munster and the midlands remain badly affected, with side roads and estates still icy, and there are lots of places where schools may remain closed today with justification. But O’Keeffe’s closing of all schools in all areas for three days this week was, in hindsight, a panicked reaction to the public’s own panic at what was perceived as the Government’s inability to cope with a crisis.

O’Keeffe’s decision wasn’t about the snow. Weather chaos represented a larger picture, where the world seemed to be in chaos and we wanted somebody to fix it. Somebody had to be seen to be doing something, so our children’s education took the hit.

O’Keeffe’s edict came last Friday as forecasters were predicting weather doom. People were slipping on pavements and terrified to drive, public transportation was disrupted, and there was a real sense of anger from people forced to deal with the unexpected. The general mood involved accusing the Government of inaction, as though the Government could wave a magic wand and fix a weather event unparalleled for more than 40 years. The public’s reaction was childish, because when you’re a child you expect your parents to know all and do all. No matter how unexpected the problem – which the big freeze was – as a child, you believe that your parents will fix it.

The real issue wasn’t the weather, but a generalised anxiety – with the floods so recent and the economic crisis ongoing – that our leaders lack leadership. We complain about a nanny state enforcing too many rules, but when it comes to a weather crisis, we want the Government to behave like the all-powerful parent and solve the problem. So O’Keeffe responded by making a blanket decision to close all schools, which certainly made him popular with children.

But it shouldn’t have happened in the first place. We should have let local boards of management make their own decisions all along, but that was too uncertain for us. We wanted certainty, so our appetite was for a grand parental gesture, and the Government responded.

There’s something about snow that brings out the child in many of us. On Saturday morning, when severe freezing and snow was forecast, the convenience shops where I live couldn’t put bread and milk on the shelves fast enough, as the panicky types hoarded for the duration. People were skiing to the local shop and trudging through five centimetres of snow with bales of briquettes and bottles of water.

It was an exaggerated reaction, perhaps in response to news reports about all those people suffering real hardship – burst pipes, no central heating, water shortages and an inability to get to the shops. So, while there’s no question that people have suffered inconvenience, it was fascinating to see how different people coped with being at the mercy of the weather. There were panickers, adventurous copers and people in denial.

As I lumbered home from the local shop with my milk, bread and briquette supply (I’m a bit of a panicker), I met an adventurous coper in high spirits who had just been swimming in the sea. Her husband and daughter took the opportunity to throw snowballs at her before letting her back into the warm car, but her attitude was fun-loving. She wasn’t in the least bit worried about having enough food and warmth. “This is Ireland – it can’t last that long,” was her attitude.

Along with the panickers and adventurous copers were the show-offs. Down at the waterfront, there were people surf-paddling in the icy sea as the snow fell. Surf-paddling seems to involve standing on a surfboard-type apparatus while propelling yourself with an oar (it’s the next big thing, I’m told). Others were taking advantage of the snowed-in streets by trudging along on snowshoes and with Norwegian walking sticks, determined to show how tough they were.

And then there were those in happy denial. They didn’t believe that the big snow would be that bad, and looked forward to subsisting on the remnants of cupboard standbys while enjoying the feeling that the mad world had stopped for a little while. “As long as you have milk, flour and eggs you’re fine,” was one friend’s attitude. How right she was, since today she could easily drive to the shops.

Meanwhile, our politicians are like confused parents, drifting between states of denial (what problem?) to states of rash, panicked decision-making (closing all schools) and we’re left to cope with the consequences of an indecisive nanny State that, if you were to hire it as a nanny, wouldn’t last a week.