Roads to Joy

It was a misty morning, and there were icy patches on the tarmac as I hopped it down to the Men’s Coffee Morning. I thought, as I passed this scene, that it was quite remarkable, and then I realised that I’d better extract my iPhone and take a quick snap.

Far across the valley of Ken Water, just proud of the pervasive mist, the white windmills twirled in a cloud of exalted grace, their slender blades catching the sun. The giant generators housed in each fuselage, or nacelle, are armed with super-sized magnets that create a magnetic field through which coiled copper twirls, thereby producing a direct electric current. Housed within the nacelle is an inverter that turns the direct current into alternating current for transmission across high voltage wires into the National Grid.

Some people loathe these giant turbines, but I find them fascinating, especially on the occasions when they seem to be floating in the air. It seems that no matter how we generate electricity, there’s an associated cost. Hydro-power, in which the force of falling water drives giant turbines, demands huge buildings to house the machinery, and often huge dams that play havoc with migrating fish and other fauna. Wind turbines are often felt to be an unsightly blot on the landscape. Giant plants that produce steam, heated by biomass, fossil fuels, or nuclear fission, have their own burden, whether it’s contributing to atmospheric carbon dioxide, or making a storage headache. Photovoltaic solar power makes for untidy roofs or steals agricultural land for energy. Always a cost of some sort for the power we desire.

But sometimes, as in the case of our cloud-floating turbines, the contribution is aesthetically pleasing, rather than detracting. And for me, that little fillip of joy induced a little spring in my step, and I embarked upon my day with delight and anticipation. What other lovely surprises might be in store?