How many years ago did we meet in the basement of Earls Court Square, an unlikely coupling then as now, we became friends. An attraction of differences, which fitted well together. Now, time passed, we have the addition of our past, including tentacles each others friends we met along the way, linked to us at moments.
One of Leslie’s first actions was naturally, to get the tweezers out and pull out the hair growing from my chin (an old bicycle accident scar). So love her for that direct action.
We walked the land, saw the bunker, the ponds, took a small tour out to Blythburgh church were I recalled our first denominator – our love of gravestones, their back stories, and death. Back via the sea at Walkberswick. That evening, over a delicious dinner, with salad from the garden, we talked of friendships, and felt how important they were.
Changes: the body, the geography.
‘I knew Rupert from the last century’, I explain to introduce Rupert. Ah the company of friends from time back.
It was Virginia who began our trail to find evidence of our land merging with the sea and climate change on our coastline. Virginia, linked from Patrick’s reading his book about Roger Deakin, visited the day before the converted Lookout from Eastern Bavants, and recommended it to us. A static on wheels, (that could be moved with time eroding coastlines) over looking the north sea, surrounded by fields of wild wilderness.
We walked down an old track lined with gnarled blackthorn, then encouraged by a dog walker, turned left at the sea walking beside a house for sale (£450,000) with an outlook of bricks pilled up of a previous home now lost out at sea. We found the two holiday homes, beautifully clad in cedar with shingle roof, wheels discrete underneath, with views out to sea. Further down a track, we met Phil, the landowner family, who without heavy handedness, explained that if it does not say footpath, it does not mean right of way (does your home say footpath? he asked). He liked the dogs, and would one day get a border collie. ‘Don’t buy in Southwold!’, he advised, the coast here looses 5 meters a year. ‘War time here was a runway going a kilometer out to sea’. His passion was flying, he explained. The family farm that used to be 350 acres was now 100 acres of working land. One side they had planted grass and herbs for variety, the other for birds, and birds they came.
At Sole Bay, we drank a pint of Adnams. The pub had been ‘done up’, gone the feel of a local pub, in stead a place for making money from diners tables. We walked to the end of the Pier, Rupert chatted to the fisherman to ask if sole was caught, but Bass the prize.
Continuing our desire to see evidence of land erosion we walked Cove Hithe circuit, walking down some old green tracks, passed a beautiful old oak in a field, out to the coast, to witness sandmartins ducking and diving, feeding their chicks in their sand nests in the cliff. Their homes reminded me of the Dogon Cliff of Bandigara in Mali – a place I swore then I’d return to, but now I know I will not (in this life anyhow).
In the evening an invitation from Andrew to hear fairy stories for Adults at Thorington Theatre, and a memorable telling of a tale or two. Ben Haggarty?
Finally on the last day, attentive to blisters, we meandered Dunwich museum, once again inhabited with an informative volunteer, this one an archeologist by training, with geologist parents, who gave us some low down on the absurdity of Sizewell expansion. Currently built on a slither of granite, with London clay underneath, the new one less firm of foundation, and even so the coast is eroding, it will be an island before long. How is it so obvious to us? As I made an unplanned swim in the north sea retrieving the dogs ball, a passer by called out ‘You should teach your dog to swim!’. Not realising that the dog, beloved Kali, longed to swim but could not see the ball, being mostly blind.
Rupert and I had un-commented on final swim the morning he left, meeting Sara and J for a coffee at The Black Dog. However our conversation on the inevitability of climate change was observed: ‘Could you not talk of something less pessimistic?’ he said. J smoothed the edges with introductions.
Such a pleasure it has been, being taken out from the computer screen and dismal thoughts of my own health and failures, by the visitation of friends. Like putting on of old shoes that fit so comfortably around bunions and other idiosyncrasies.
Kalikellett 