Pilgrims and Early Harvests
Life on Earth
Anyone who thinks living in the countryside is opting for a quiet life is mistaken. The sounds around the village this week include industrial size combine harvesting reaping the fields of gold along the lanes, the clattering and banging of contractors installing broadband - along the pavement by the church gaol - and the bell ringers practicing their peals and tolls. I say practicing, because I've not heard any gossip about there being an increase in funerals or weddings hereabouts and the annual pilgrimage was at the beginning of the month.
The pilgrimage brings a couple of coach-loads of 'outsiders' to gather at the village church opposite the pub, where they participate in a service and then walk the two miles to St Peter's chapel, which is close to the sea wall. This year, the pilgrims were entertained by a brass band, belting out marching melodies.
I'm told that the chapel is technically a cathedral, as St Cedd set out from it to convert the Saxons. I don't know if my information is accurate, but I do know that our tiny village has a bishop. His name is Adam and he doesn't live on the peninsula, despite there being an empty Rectory here. I find that odd, since the Archdeacon of Chelmsford lives in the Chelmsford area and the Archdeacon of Southend is also local to her flock.
When David and I first moved to deep, remote and rural Essex, I joined the Women's Institute (WI) to meet people and possibly make new friends. Not long after I joined another woman, and then another joined for the same reason, both also new to the area. It soon became evident that we were too 'young', too modern or maybe not timid enough for established members. We weren't particularly interested in “Twenty Ways to Tie a Scarf” or any such thing and gently suggested changes. It turns out what was masquerading as a WI was, in fact, what we were told was a "nice little club". The three of us formed our own friendship group, which proved much more flexible and fun.
Our village also has its characters, such as our nature loving witches - who can be seen collecting 'hag stones' from the beach - and the church organist - who always wears shorts no matter the weather. Our next door neighbour is also recognisable, because she always looks ultra-glamorous, even at the school gates, with her long blond hair, false eye lashes and painted nails.
I think the only drawback to living in the countryside is distance from anywhere else. Our nearest supermarket is about half an hour away, if the roads are open and you don't get stuck behind a tractor. Online shopping is useful, but limited. We have had to go shopping after a supermarket delivery, because our order was packed the night before it's due date and, as I now know, no fresh produce is kept in a van overnight. It rather defeats the point of home delivery, if there isn't anything fresh delivered, since I can bulk buy dry and tinned goods and store them anyway.
The village fete and dog show is coming around. David and I are talking about entering Ruby, our beagle, in a few classes. David is reserving judgement, because Ruby still behaves like a disobedient toddler at training classes. For instance, last week the puppies were taken to a big field near the Village Hall for a retrieval and call back lesson. Ruby, who is generally teacher's pet, became teacher's pickle. She happily retrieved her tug toy and gaily trotted back towards David, but as she drew close, she picked up speed and dashed right past him. It took a more savvy dachshund, sitting in the middle of the field to get Ruby to see if Master Dachshund wanted to play a doggie game. Once she was distracted, David was able to clip on her lead.
Village life is not a life lived in the slow lane either, unless by deliberate choice. There is a lot of activity going on, such as the two pubs hosting various events, such as quiz nights and karaoke and there is an annual VE Day celebration with a fly past. However, some activities seem more covert and the best way to find things is by word of mouth and/or picking up gossip in the community shop. It's how I found the Well Women's Hub and yoga classes.
Gardening is one of the main 'slow' pastimes on the peninsular, whether for private pleasure or opening up for the public to raise money for charity. Some families are so organised that they provide portaloos and sell refreshments. Our back garden isn't spectacular enough to charge an admittance fee, although it does provide nice views from the house.
The plot next door, where we intend to move when we sell our current home has lots of points of interests, due to the wood and the wild area behind the poly-tunnel. Until recently the orange Peruvian lilies (genus Alstroemeria) were blooming with abandon, but they are now spent, leaving the attention to be grabbed by the globe artichokes. They have grown beautiful, soft, purple whiskers. I have cut a few and put them in a vase in the study, so I can admire them as I write.
My poem this week is a haiku, from my collection of poems called Soft Rains, which will eventually be published. It is a reflection on what we make of the here and now.
LIFE ON EARTH The things that matter are the things we care about Birds fly over each home