Fogs and smogs in the UK before the 1950s Clean Air Act

The origin of the term 'pea soup'

I believe that the 'pea soup' term probably refers to the ability of a good old thick pea soup to permit a spoon to stand up without falling over, hence 'As thick as pea soup'.

Douglas Adam

A contemporary description of a Victorian fog

"... for the fourth [day] after pushing back our chairs from breakfast, we saw the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window panes ..."

The Bruce-Partington Plans by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Smog in industrial cities

Being an industrial city, Glasgow where I grew up, had its share of pea soupers/smogs, as I well remember. The acrid taste of sulphur dioxide and sulphurous/sulphuric acid due to the sulphur which was present in many coals caused lung problems. The high humidity necessitated frequent nose blowing, and the amount of black particles in the mucous was unbelievable.

Douglas Adam

Getting lost in a bad fog

The worst fog I remember was in the late 1950s. I was on my way back from the Washington Singer Laboratories in Exeter to my lodgings in Pinhoe. It was my custom to make this journey by bike every day, and that day was no exception as there had been no fog in the morning.

On the way back it was impossible to ride my bike because I couldn't see far enough ahead of me. I had to walk with the bike, guided by the kerb which I could just see. It was crucially important to keep a map in my head of where I was and this required a surprising amount of concentration as distances were difficult to judge. Had I, for example, arrived at a bend in the road? Or was it a turning into another road? Fortunately I did come across a few road signs which I could just read if they were close enough. It was all quite frightening, and the memory stays with me. Fortunately I did get back to my lodgings eventually, but it was a close thing.

Neil Cryer

Following trams because they 'knew the way'

It was common practice during smogs for motorists to follows trams which they knew were going their way, because, being on rails, couldn't get lost.

Late one night in a bad fog on the last run of my shift as a London tram driver, my conductor and I got off the tram but heard a voice calling out from the car behind, "How long are you going to be waiting here?". I looked round to find him and had to say, "All night guv, you're in the depot!". The motorist, simply hadn't been able to see that he had followed the tram too far.

Wally Hubbard, former London tram driver,
as told to Darren Kitson in the 1970s

Getting to work by car in a fog

My memorable fog experience happened in 1956 between the village of Rainhill Bridge where I lived and the Lea Green Colliery where I was an apprentice.

Although I had previously used public transport to get to work, my routine changed when Pat McAteer started work in the same workshop as me. He was a 1950s celebrity, the current British and Commonwealth Middle Weight boxing champion, and he had a modern Ford Zephyr/Zodiac luxury car as befitted a champion, Being such a great guy he used to give me a lift into work.

One particular morning the fog was extremely dense and he had had a snail's pace journey to get to me. In order to ensure that we would have a somewhat quicker onward journey, he suggested that I should volunteer to sit on the kerb-side mud guard of the car and shine a torch into the gutter ahead to give him a line to drive by. This I did and we arrived safely with me wearing his posh scarf which he provided me with to keep me from choking in the fog. How was that for consideration from a champion!

Alan Hughes

Buses in fogs

Bus journeys in smogs depended on the clippy walking the entire route ahead of the bus (but not too far ahead) with a torch facing backwards for the driver to follow. Surprisingly the timetable was 'almost' maintained simply because at walking speed people could get on and off the bus without the need for the bus to even slow down. As well, the clippy knew the route by heart so could call out the name of the stop as the bus approached it. Naturally it was not unusual for other traffic to tag along close behind busses so they tended to be followed by a caterpillar of mixed traffic at matching walking speed and only a couple of feet apart.

Mind you, buses were not entirely trustworthy. There was the story which was probably true that a bus somehow found itself completely lost in a churchyard. It had to be left in place until the fog lifted and the bus driver could figure out how to get back out!

Jan Clifford

Traffic accidents in fog

One foggy morning, I was sitting next to my mate who was driving our coal delivery. Suddenly a bus loomed into view ahead. I shouted to my mate and he slammed on the brakes.

I hit the driver's cabin the floor and our truck crumpled up.

Fortunately I had lifted my feet just in time and I was able to get to the door handle. As I did so, the door fell off.

I wasn't hurt too badly. There was a tear in my trouser at my left knee which was cut. The bus conductor, who had been looking out at the back of the bus, got thrown clear. I heard later that the bus driver had broken ribs, but I never found out what happened to the passengers.

I ran back to the coal yard for help and they sent along an empty lorry. Hurt as we were, we had to tranship the load and go out and deliver it. It was 7 pm that night before we finished.

Albert Orr

In the big London smog of 1952

In December 1952, there was the 'Big Smog' in London. It was disgusting, evil smelling and greasy, and the world disappeared outside. We couldn't even see the gas street lights right outside the front gate.

I was 10 years old. There was going to be a concert at the hall attached to St Joseph's Church, Wealdstone, and I was determined I wasn't going to miss it, because I was doing a solo on the violin. My mother tried all types of persuasion to get me to stay at home, but to no avail. So off we went, hand in hand, trailing our fingers along the hedges and fences because we couldn't see where we were going. The silence was deathly because the fog muffled everything, and there was of course no traffic.

On turning the corner into Farmstead Road, we heard the voices of obviously young Jack the Lads coming along, one of them saying, "Don't know what all the fuss is about - it's only a bit of mist". However, the next thing that happened was that we heard the sound of someone walking slap bang into the pig bin! - and it tipping over and rolling around. This was immediately followed by a string of curses coming from the same lad, with screams of laughter coming from his mates.

My mother and I got as far as a shop called Toddlers on the corner of Whitefriars Drive and the High Street, and it was only then that I became really frightened. I told my mother that I didn't want to go any further - just to go home! My mother never actually said, "I told you so", but I could tell by the way she pulled me back home at great speed that she was fuming!!!!!! -

Oh! By the way. We found out later that the concert had been cancelled, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances.

Rosemary O'Gorman