As a field Engineer for the local Electricity Board my duties involved operation of high voltage networks, mostly at eleven thousand volts. Much of this marches across the countryside on wooden poles that are a familiar sight.  The bane of farmer's lives as they can get in the way of machinery, to any rural visitor they are just part of the scene. However, to those who provide electricity to homes, farms and businesses, this is a complex system needing careful attention. It also comes under frequent attack from many agents. Weather, particularly high winds or lightning storms can wreak havoc. Trees fall across lines. Then there is the mechanical digger whose bucket seems to have an unerring aim for buried cables. To say nothing of the roadside pole which suddenly leaps out at an unsuspecting motorist  - "I'm NOT under the affluence of incohol, Offisher !" So, on the rare occasions that your lights go out, you can start to glimpse some of the reasons why.

The lines and cables travel cross-country for miles, distributing power to remote and sometimes isolated communities as they go. Control is by means of a large circuit breaker (that’s just a big switch) in a brickbuilt substation and then by occasional smaller switches on poles out along the line. Most of the time, an Engineer cannot see the customers he is supplying. The only indication that power is "on" comes from the needle of a meter as he works the circuit breaker. Not very dramatic. However, customers in the dark soon let the office know, so there is feedback but of a roundabout kind. All, that is, but for one notable exception.

Bad weather had brought down some lines in a sleepy corner of Suffolk earlier in the day, and as the Standby Engineer on call, I had been dispatched to deal with it. The damaged section of line was duly switched out, isolated with safety locks, tested and earthed. A Permit to Work was issued to the crew of overhead linesmen for repairs. All other supplies in the area were restored by routing power around the damaged section.  Work was completed towards nightfall and in the gathering gloom tools and earths were removed, the Permit was cancelled, and preparations made to restore supplies. I drove the Board estate car to the top of a hill nearby where there stood a pole - top switch controlling the newly repaired section of line. On a crackly utility radio, which occupied much of the car's boot, I asked permission from Network Control to finally restore power for those folk who had been off all day. Duly authorised, a safety helmet and thick rubber gloves were pulled on. The helmet was in case anything at the top fell apart as the switch was thrown. All standard procedures were carried out a thousand times before. What followed was completely unexpected. 

Now in total darkness, I swung on the switch handle. Speed and force, that was the training, drummed in at Operation School. This overcomes the electrical forces that burst into life way above. With an almighty crack and incandescent arc, the switch closed, bringing to life the dark and silent valley below. Hundreds of lights came on in homes big and small as far as the eye could see. Street lights began to twinkle. A community roused from its Dark Age, once again able to enjoy the comforts of modern living. I stood for a moment gazing down in quiet reflection, imagining candles being blown out, countless kettles put on for a nice hot cup of tea, TV turned on for news.  Never had the impact on customer's lives been quite so close up and personal. It put a whole new perspective on the job.