December 1st, 2023. A year ago today was the final full day of a three week stay in Walberswick.
It was the morning that I took the photograph that is featured on the cover of the forthcoming Miracle Mile album ‘East of Ely’. It’s reassuring to know that, year by year, the place holds the same attraction. In such transient times it’s good to have access to such a sturdy touchstone.
Early morning walk. My last full day. I have the beach to myself. The paths here peter out; releasing you towards adventure and receiving you upon return. I’m walking without intent: shuffling and stumbling really. Tom Waits is in my ear: “The obsession’s in the chasing and not the apprehending…” he wheezes. The wonder of this place? It tenders an unfathomable bliss. Beyond the beauty, its boundless skies offer a sense of arrival and departure: unbridled. The birds know that: vast squadrons of humming intent, gathering chaotically on the marshlands, waiting for a whisper of collective instinct to launch them towards something better. I walk past an anti Sizewell C sign. ‘It’s Not Too Late!’ Now there’s a timely reminder for a recent retiree. ‘Rootless’ and ‘route-less’ seems to sum up my journey thus far. Tomorrow morning I’ll pack and return to the fray. Refreshed and ready for… my return next year. Always the same fortnight. Always my birthday. Always Thanksgiving. This place. Now a part of my body clock; my migration. I’ve been revisiting for ten years and it has gently hooked itself onto my heart. What does that mean? I guess it means that there’s always next year and that it’s not too late. That’s as vague and invigorating as it sounds. It’s a half light of hope. And that is light enough.
