Enjoying Snowdrops free from the fear of hippos and mosquitoes

Every year, for the past few years, we have gone to the magnificent Lytham Hall to look at the snowdrops. Every February, without fail, there is a wonderful display of snowdrops in the grounds of the hall and in the surrounding woods. Yesterday, as we walked around the grounds, it felt even more special. This time last year, it was the first trip Jane made after being discharged from hospital, following her brain bleed. I remember slowly walking around, enjoy the sunshine, quiet, and of course the snowdrops. They were magical moments of joy and happiness. This year was no different. In fact, there may have been even more flowers to be seen, and one year on, I think we both grateful to enjoy Mother Nature in all her glory.

I’m not a climate scientist, nor even a climate crisis campaigner, but days like yesterday make me reflect on the fragility of our world.  Nature is resilient, but you would have to be a hermit not to have noticed the changes around us. The dryer summers and wetter winters, melting ice caps, fierce storms and so on. What was once a fairly predictable, and reassuringly seasonally-ordered world has become very unpredictable and unsafe.

More of which in a moment – first let me take you to the other side of the world. A few years ago, I had the wonderful experience of travelling to Uganda with my university and colleagues from, what was then, Health Education England. It was a great opportunity to see how UK universities supported the training and education of doctors and midwives to work in their own countries. I was also able to visit some of our midwifery students on placement at a very rural clinic in Njara, many miles from any of the big cities.

I was impressed by the way they adapted to what were very unfamiliar surroundings, little equipment and often non-existent drugs. It was ‘back to basics’ for sure. Their knowledge, displayed through their practice, was a credit to my university colleagues. Over the 10 days of the visit, I witnessed much poverty, and saw the reality of how the extremes of nature could bring absolute devastation to communities. However, travelling around the countryside, there were two other things I worried about. One was the hippopotamuses that could be heard roaring at night and which, on land, could out run most people. I was warned more than once to not leave my accommodation at night, because of them.

The other thing I worried about were the mosquitoes. Tiny compared to a hippopotamus, but much more dangerous. Apart from nights spent in western-style hotels, every other night was spent under mosquito nets. I grew to hate the smell of the DEET mosquito repellent sprays I applied every day. I had to also take anti-malarial medication before, during and after returning to the UK. Thankfully, I didn’t suffer any ill effects either from the medication, nor the mosquitoes. And it was just for a short time. What about if we all had to live with this threat every day. Never going to happen in the UK? – think again.

Due to increasing global warming, the tiger mosquito, originally only found in Tanzania is spreading northwards towards Europe. These mosquitoes can cause serious health conditions such as chikungunya, dengue and zika. Such infections can be fatal in young people and frail older folk. Higher temperatures mean that these infections are now more likely for more than six months in places such as Spain, Greece and other Southern European countries, and for two months of the year, in the south-east of England. 

Treating some of these infections is expensive, and often unpleasant. Preventing the tiger mosquito from becoming established here in the UK is a much better option. That will only be possible, if we start to undo the damage we have done and continue to do to our planet. If we are successful, it will also mean there will be plenty of snowdrops to be enjoyed for many years to come. Jane and I want to be there to enjoy them too.