Camels and bicycles

A few days away last week in and near Padstow gave some food for thought. The inn we stayed in, between Padstow and Wadebridge, was named the Pickwick because Dickens stayed nearby and allegedly wrote A Christmas Carol there. Ironically, he also stayed in our home base of Dorking and wrote some of the Pickwick Papers while staying in the White Horse Hotel. Despite all this Dickensian inspiration I managed virtually no writing although there was time for a little editing and revision of my current project, prompted by my last blog.

While in Padstow I was struck by the beauty of the Camel estuary with its sand banks and birdlife and the riverside old railway up to Bodmin and beyond, which we explored on hired bikes - e bikes, a luxury I could get used to.

This week has been rather different. My current project, a narrative verse play, continues to develop, helped by the Padstow break, and I’ve been immersed in two hundred years of family history, courtesy of a writing box I inherited some time ago. All this positivity has felt overshadowed in the last few days by the horrific killings in Southport and the evil this has unleashed in the shape of the thugs attacking the community, the police, immigrants, and any bother easy target.

The thugs claim to be defending our values - but not any I would recognise. The true values I believe we aspire to are instead being modelled by the community in Southport quietly supporting each other, grieving and remembering, and rebuilding and repairing the damage done by the thugs. That’s where I’ve been looking to find some hope and some peace.

hatred stalks the streets
floral tributes
speak of love