LIKE the hurricane that scythed its way across southern Britain some 34 years later, there was no warning of the flood which swamped Whitstable, and the east coast of the country, during the night of January 31 and February 1, 1953.

The only indication was water covering the beaches long before high tide at 1.27am on Sunday, February 2, but it was business and pleasure as usual for residents on the Saturday.

But as they got on with their lives, weather experts were watching an intense area of low pressure which some sources say built up over the Azores and others over Iceland. Wherever it came from it was expected to follow the normal pattern and swing east when it reached the north of Scotland before dispersing over Scandinavia.

But this area did not act normally. Although it headed east as forecast, it then turned south down the North Sea and broke up over the low countries, building up enough sea to cause a surge and, in effect, put one tide on top of another.

Constrained by the narrows where the coast of Great Britain bulges out towards the continent, it ran out of space. The result was that a mass of water driven by gale force north-easterly winds spread sideways.

The results were devastating. Extensive flooding took place all along the east coast of England and in Holland where the flood channels and sea defences could not contain it.

One of its natural paths as far as England was concerned was the Thames Estuary. Tidal predictions went by the board as the surge filled every creek and inlet and overflowed into those areas lying below sea level.

Canvey Island, in Essex, where many people lost their lives, and Whitstable were amongst the hardest hit although Whitstable did not suffer any fatalities.

Although the town had some sea defences in place, and plans to extend them, they were not of sufficient height or strength to deal with one of the highest tides for many years. Waves not only topped the wall in some areas, but also smashed their way through it.

People living in the middle of the town woke to the sound of water rushing into their homes. Some tried to stem the flow by blocking doors only to find it creeping through air bricks. Others, realising there was little they could do, moved what they could to upper storeys and stoically went back to bed.

It was not until dawn that they realised they were in a disaster area. The interiors of shops in the High Street and part of Oxford Street were flooded to a depth of several feet. Bakers could not light their ovens to supply bread, and milk deliveries were seriously affected.

Many homes were without electricity and it was not until later that coal merchants could start delivering the fuel desperately needed for warmth and drying carpets and furniture. Ironically this was brought into the town by the Canterbury and Whitstable rail link which had been declared uneconomic and closed a few weeks earlier.

Island Wall, Waterloo Road and Cornwallis Circle were among the worst affected areas with many people, especially the elderly and disabled, trapped in their bedrooms. A fleet of rowing boats was organised to rescue them and take them to safety with amphibious DUKW vehicles known as ducks crewed by American servicemen from Manston joining in the operations.

Cats were gathered up and kept in a safe place until they could be reunited with their owners. Other animals were not so fortunate. Cattle and sheep grazing on the marshes between Faversham Road, Seasalter, and the embankment carrying the main line to London, were trapped. Many were saved and taken to high ground, but a number were overcome by the water and died as a result.

The water in Whitstable town centre started to recede on the Sunday. Fire brigades from Kent and London were joined by service men and women drafted in for the clear-up. They worked day and night but it was weeks before the water was pumped away from the worst affected areas leaving families to cope with the residue of mud, shingle and the long term effects of the salt on buildings.