I'm sitting at my desk on Tuesday and suddenly I hear this weird noise - a bit like an alarm but kind of booming and jangled. At first I think the guy who plays the alphorn in the park at lunch time most days has fetched a mate to add some colour to his midday mournfuls. And then I think it' something to do with Fasnacht and Karneval which kick off this weekend. There's no-one to ask so I keep on working. When my Swiss colleague returns, I get the story.
It's been all over the newspapers, radio and television - in German, of course, so we haven't heard about it. They are testing the national alarm system and it's the sound you will hear if the Swiss authorities want to warn you about a dam that's burst in the mountains - or a national disaster of some other kind (like all the cheese ran out!).
That evening Richard and I are walking home from the bus chewing the fat about living in a country where they have no sprinklers in buildings (many of which are loaded with wood and other inflammables not to mention priceless antiques), but a national alarm system that alerts the whole world to something that's probably inescapable anyway. This doesn't seem to figure. In Adliswil, Richard has also heard the alarm loud and clear. And, of course, being at home with no-one to ask, he's been looking out the window to see when the sky is going to fall in.
So we're getting ready to turn in about 10.30pm and, lo and behold, they test the alarm system again. I say to Richard, "They really are making sure it works" and then, being dog tired, I'm lights out before you can say "Helga Mueller".
Suddenly I'm roused from my slumbers by the sound of a loudspeaker booming out across the valley. I'm thinking: "Is it really necessary to be this thorough". But I dutifully get out of bed and open the window to see if I can hear what the man is saying. I catch the words "Zug" and "Ausflug" and, my German being still quite basic, I think they are practising the message about evacuating by train. So I get back into bed and finally the guy gives us once he's gone back and forth across the valley several times.
In the morning I get up and drink an enormous glass of water and do the usual before getting the bus to work where my Swiss colleague asks, "Did you hear on the radio about the water supply in Adliswil being contaminated. It's been declared unfit to drink". Brilliant - I've just ingested a pint. So, of course I call Richard and say "Don't drink the water" which is pretty dumb because the last time Richard drank a glass of water was when the beer and wine ran out in the middle of the night and he couldn't face walking up the hill again after going down to buy some more - in other words, never!
He calls me back about 10am to tell me that the Adliswil authorities have already done a letter drop about the town's recycled, partly treated water having accidentally been connected to the drinking water supply, necessitating a major alarm.
I ask myself what are the chances of a real alarm having to be sounded less than 12 hours after doing a national test on the system, and how do you get people to take a real alarm seriously on a day when they've been giving false alarms.
Then the conspiracy theorist and PR person in me just can't help but pop out. I figure they had Baldrick working for the Adliswil community. He's called in to communicate about the water crisis and he's told, "Whatever you do, make sure they don't panic". Of course, he has a cunning plan. "Let's announce a test of the national alarm system. And then late at night just when everyone's feeling smug and secure because they live is such a safe country and safely tucked up in bed nice and relaxed, let's sound the real alarm and that way they won't panic and rush out to the BP garage in Wollishoven (the only 24/7 for miles around) and clean them out of bottled water thereby triggering another national disaster". Well done, Baldrick!
It's been all over the newspapers, radio and television - in German, of course, so we haven't heard about it. They are testing the national alarm system and it's the sound you will hear if the Swiss authorities want to warn you about a dam that's burst in the mountains - or a national disaster of some other kind (like all the cheese ran out!).
That evening Richard and I are walking home from the bus chewing the fat about living in a country where they have no sprinklers in buildings (many of which are loaded with wood and other inflammables not to mention priceless antiques), but a national alarm system that alerts the whole world to something that's probably inescapable anyway. This doesn't seem to figure. In Adliswil, Richard has also heard the alarm loud and clear. And, of course, being at home with no-one to ask, he's been looking out the window to see when the sky is going to fall in.
So we're getting ready to turn in about 10.30pm and, lo and behold, they test the alarm system again. I say to Richard, "They really are making sure it works" and then, being dog tired, I'm lights out before you can say "Helga Mueller".
Suddenly I'm roused from my slumbers by the sound of a loudspeaker booming out across the valley. I'm thinking: "Is it really necessary to be this thorough". But I dutifully get out of bed and open the window to see if I can hear what the man is saying. I catch the words "Zug" and "Ausflug" and, my German being still quite basic, I think they are practising the message about evacuating by train. So I get back into bed and finally the guy gives us once he's gone back and forth across the valley several times.
In the morning I get up and drink an enormous glass of water and do the usual before getting the bus to work where my Swiss colleague asks, "Did you hear on the radio about the water supply in Adliswil being contaminated. It's been declared unfit to drink". Brilliant - I've just ingested a pint. So, of course I call Richard and say "Don't drink the water" which is pretty dumb because the last time Richard drank a glass of water was when the beer and wine ran out in the middle of the night and he couldn't face walking up the hill again after going down to buy some more - in other words, never!
He calls me back about 10am to tell me that the Adliswil authorities have already done a letter drop about the town's recycled, partly treated water having accidentally been connected to the drinking water supply, necessitating a major alarm.
I ask myself what are the chances of a real alarm having to be sounded less than 12 hours after doing a national test on the system, and how do you get people to take a real alarm seriously on a day when they've been giving false alarms.
Then the conspiracy theorist and PR person in me just can't help but pop out. I figure they had Baldrick working for the Adliswil community. He's called in to communicate about the water crisis and he's told, "Whatever you do, make sure they don't panic". Of course, he has a cunning plan. "Let's announce a test of the national alarm system. And then late at night just when everyone's feeling smug and secure because they live is such a safe country and safely tucked up in bed nice and relaxed, let's sound the real alarm and that way they won't panic and rush out to the BP garage in Wollishoven (the only 24/7 for miles around) and clean them out of bottled water thereby triggering another national disaster". Well done, Baldrick!
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