Normally the morning shift change is quiet, but Saturday morning is different — everyone is angry and anxious to get out the door. V, the team leader, is nearly bellowing the night’s events at the operator taking over from him;
“It was midnight, and then everything just went pitch black. We sat there staring at each other for nine seconds — then the screens blinked back on and everything was red….”
J explains “The plant tripped last night. Electrical fault — apparently they’ve called in all the ‘tricians.”
When I describe “trip” to my partner, they laugh and say “It’s like the plant’s fallen over!” In fact when a machine fails many technicians call it “falling over”, which implies a temporary failure (as opposed to “fucked” which is total breakdown.)
The night shift have done an amazing job; the plant is still burning waste and producing steam, but the turbine, generator and transformer are down, so all the steam is being released out the roof.
Our generator is connected to our transformer, which converts the 11,000 volts generated into 33,000 volts for the Northern Powergrid (Yorkshire’s version of the National Grid, a semi-privatised company). What has tripped the plant is the opening of a circuit breaker between the generator and the transformer, which has caused Northern Powergrid to open their circuit breaker on the other side of the transformer to protect their equipment. These two breakers are dependent on each other, which means Powergrid must close their breaker before we can close ours and generate power.
Important people begin ringing each other; sensory inspections are performed on the transformer and the switch gear, but no-one on site is qualified to properly test them. Finally, Powergrid send their engineer to look at the equipment. The young man from the grid is half the age and size of the operators, but he’s fast, friendly, and very sharp.
He opens a dusty room he’s never seen before and quickly makes sense of the old drawings and switchgear. He discusses the possibilities with the shift leader and manager, weighing up the risks of damage to the transformer and the generator. After phone calls to very high-up managers, they decide on the order to close the switches.
Because of the high voltages involved, closing an HV switch can lead to electrical arcing and immediate death. Making a mistake can destroy millions of pounds worth of equipment. The operators close the switches remotely from a panel well outside the switch room itself. The Powergrid engineer doesn’t touch a button; he instructs his colleagues to close the breaker remotely.
After a second we hear the transformer come back online, and confirm that nothing is damaged or faulting. The maintenance electricians then head to the switch room and watch the turbine start up. Once it reaches a certain speed, the generator kicks in, which synchronises its frequency with the national grid — 50Hz — and suddenly, we’re back in business. □
• Emma Rickman is an engineering apprentice at a Combined Heat and Power plant in Sheffield.
• Other entries in the “My Life At Work” series, and other workers' diaries
