On that occasion we should have done. Spurned it, that is.With hindsight we certainly would have done.
Spurn Head – a ceaselessly shifting spit of sand at the mouth of the river Humber, with a fascinating history of defence, defence against the elements. My notebook describes groynes 'like ancient and spear-hit soldiers, armoured squares and wounded stabs' and I'd anticipated using the invasive imagery to inform the World War One work I was at that time intending to produce.
In 2007, with blithe optimism, and blinkered as to the need to make a better check, I had booked the only cottage there for myself and a fellow artist to spend a week drawing and painting. A week in June - light, light nights, summer weather, warmth and sunshine ... surely not too optimistic?
But the cottage was a dump – damp and peeling wallpaper, spiders and a temperamental scalding shower. The weather dumped damp too - two days of almost endless rain - just one dry afternoon and one golden evening the second day. The rest of the time it was too wet, too cold - in June! - to stand outside and hold a pencil. I drew, as much as the rain and cold allowed, the festoons of nets and wrappings of rags, vainly attempting to staunch wounds, doomed to ultimately fail. After a day indoors, drawing diligently, we ventured two miles to the pub for a meal - "Sorry kitchen flooded - no food" - and the next morning woke to hear that Hull had suffered floods, as had the road down which we'd travelled - now apparently impassable.
Tempers were fraying too – my fellow artist did not possess the pioneering spirit, and fearful of being stuck there with her for the rest of the week I decided to extricate myself from this particular hole and insisted on driving home.
But the cottage was a dump – damp and peeling wallpaper, spiders and a temperamental scalding shower. The weather dumped damp too - two days of almost endless rain - just one dry afternoon and one golden evening the second day. The rest of the time it was too wet, too cold - in June! - to stand outside and hold a pencil. I drew, as much as the rain and cold allowed, the festoons of nets and wrappings of rags, vainly attempting to staunch wounds, doomed to ultimately fail. After a day indoors, drawing diligently, we ventured two miles to the pub for a meal - "Sorry kitchen flooded - no food" - and the next morning woke to hear that Hull had suffered floods, as had the road down which we'd travelled - now apparently impassable.
Tempers were fraying too – my fellow artist did not possess the pioneering spirit, and fearful of being stuck there with her for the rest of the week I decided to extricate myself from this particular hole and insisted on driving home.
This is my submission for the anniversary edition of Language>place Carnival #11
Fabulously atmospheric. I love the illustrations too. penny
ReplyDeleteI was in Hull on business the day it flooded. A young man was trapped a couple of miles away and drowned because the emergency services couldn't get to him in time. A side road where I had planned to shelter that morning, as the roads became more difficult to drive, suffered a flash flood that swept away several cars.
ReplyDeleteK's mum lives in Hull and watched helplessly as water crept up and over the doorstep and filled the floor of her bungalow, lifting floor tiles and ruining carpets.
A year later some families were still living in caravans in their own gardens because south-focussed insurance companies refused to let local traders carry out repairs: local traders who had seen their own homes and offices wrecked.
It was a bad time.
Yes - I remember the whole feeling of the time then, the man drowned and the non-stop rain. We left about 5.30 the next morning, couldn't wait to get away.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great story. I enjoyed this. Thank-you! This would be enough to do me in: "the cottage was a dump – damp and peeling wallpaper, spiders and a temperamental scalding shower." But then, it's not as bad as this: "Tempers were fraying too – my fellow artist did not possess the pioneering spirit". The tone of things really can depend on who you're with...
ReplyDeleteLove all of this -- the words, the photos, the drawing. So upsetting when minds do not meld. Very atmospheric, this. And transporting. Peace...
ReplyDelete