Communicating across the river by land, air and water!
Our first complete connection across the river began appropriately with an early morning boat ride round to Pagelsham. Crossing the river and seeing from a different perspective where we had walked the day before, earth moving monsters still rearranging the cross rail mud on Wallasea. We chugged around the island and walked the rest, all the way to Canewdon.
In the mud, beached boats, rusting hulks and rotting wooden carcases, the blackened bones of huge dead fish, seals and their pups camouflaged, basking. For that is what seals do. Talking yachting with the ferry men, two brothers in conversation with the flag carrying walkers at the same time holding open with each other a discrete line of conversation on water hazards, tides and navigation. We were dropped off as if in a foreign country and walked up the jetty, the ferry turned and the set off back. We waved thankyou.
With no one we knew to meet us it felt strange, like a film set. Corrugated iron buildings with faded signs, the sound of motors and welding, various dodgy looking, suspicious, but eventually friendly, geezers came to check us out. “I work in the environment, I do” said one going on to describe the costly gear he had buried in the mud. Another said we looked like we had got lost on our way back from Glastonbury. The sun grew hot. A newspaper photographer showed up and we play acted for him. Stuart (local artist) arrived dripping with sweat on his bike to hand over the next code . Project Manager showed up stressed and cross that someone else had done the porterage which she had not wanted to do. And subsequently fired off another stroppy email. I needn’t have come this morning ,she said; as if it wasn’t expected that she should consider it to be part of her job to be at the start each day and see everyone off. At least the suitcases were not transported in a rib. The logistics safety net of the project is weak.
We walked on banners flying along the sea wall, all the way round to Canewdon. A tremendous walk if a bit hot and scorchify. Putting on a last burst of speed to get to the school only a few minutes late. After signing in not signing in…PM’s job?.. we found the whole school in the playground seated, expectantly, talking through their community flag. We appeared carrying three flags the gasps from children and grown ups was audible. Jo ( local artist) already on a roll as MC of the whole thing.
The Canewdon flag was presented and four flags were carried, with children bearing the two sections of ribbon, to the church. As we arrived the bells started ringing. A tremendous touch, we later climbed the tower and heard the stories of the bells.We were all excited, parents dignitaries, teachers and the vicar looked on as Jo orchestrated the event. Proud children fed out the banner around the church and we were all astounded as it came around the other side and was ceremoniously tied up.
Here the children did seem to understand the gesture and the link, connecting with the history talk and the notion of the embrace of their village building. A real sense of community and pride. Perhaps something to do with getting them out of the school into the streets of their community. We had brought them something special from across the water.
Ironically the act of running around the church is supposed to produce a presence at the church door. I wonder if that was a deep echo of the churches original pagan site. We later visited the pond where, the story goes, the ‘witches ‘ were drowned. A more respectable superstition was rolled out by the Christian priest, and just past the house called Nirvana a black cat ran across the road in front of us.