Change
How things have changed from centuries past up to more recent
times just before my life began, even beyond to the present day with these
great wind turbines. On the North Kent coastline the spireless twin towers at
Reculver are mostly all that remain of a church, though it is still an
unmistakable landmark that dates from the 12th century AD. Once every ship's
master and sailors would have recognised these towers for navigating out of
London as they signal where the Thames Estuary changes into the open sea.
A World War II military facility still stands proud in
the North Sea. The Red Sands fort. This complex of seven towers was constructed
in the Summer of 1943 about 6 miles off the Isle of Sheppey. The towers
themselves had been towed into position and each placed on its own four
concrete legs. The complex comprised of five gun towers, a searchlight tower
and a main control tower all 100ft above sea level, although these towers are
no longer interconnected by narrow catwalks.
Further eastwards, the World War II
Tongue fort recently collapsed into the River Thames Estuary and had been
standing sentry long after its function became unnecessary. For me it was a
relic of an unknown time, a defence station with its two huge anti-aircraft
guns used against German bombers attempting to strike at the heart of London. I
remember it from my childhood as I viewed it at close quarters from a local
cruise vessel. I seem to recall that the guns must have been housed inside huge
glazed cabins, although the guns themselves had been removed. It did look a sad
wreck though. In any case, the entire structure was covered in the grey and
white evidence of seagulls using it for their own target practice.
The Tongue lightship has since been
towed away, sold to become a restaurant in Hamburg. I had always thought that
the lightship was a marker for the North Goodwin sandbank, which is still
clearly visible especially when standing on the clifftops along the northcoast
near Margate. Even before low tide in a rough sea waves can often be seen
crashing over them in a fury of whiteness. It struck me as very odd that the
last lightship, the third in a total of more than 100 years, should be removed
around the same time that the conveniently named Tongue fort suddenly
collapsed. The sandbank is still there, but the lightship marking its presence
has been removed as if there is no hazard anymore.
I remember it was 1963 when the sea froze.
Large ice floes forming a mosaic like a sheet of shattered glass as far out to
sea as I could see. Margate pier is now long gone having been destroyed by fire
and the resulting iron wreck ultimately removed. Never again to see the
pleasure steamer 'Daffodil' coming over the horizon to berth at the pier. This
smart looking white vessel with its twin yellow funnels and polished wood
handrails was always a striking shape on the horizon as it approached Margate
from Southend. The course was always to the west of the Tongue fort in the
deeper water clear of the sandbank.
All of a sudden I felt dizzy and I had to sit down before I fell and the throbbing pain in my head started. A familiar bright point of light appeared in my vision and closing my eyes never made it disappear. It grew bigger and changed into a slowly rotating jagged circular shape. I could never focus on it as it elusively remained on the periphery of my vision. There was a blinding flash and in that moment I had a strong impression of a concrete structure being towed out to sea. I felt very cold. I didn't actually see anything. Any more than I could ever focus on the jagged circle. Nevertheless it was an incredibly intense impression. Almost real, yet unreal. I must have imagined the towers being placed at the Red Sands.
Beyond the horizon to the North-East lay
the unsighted Essex coast. Up and round in an anti-clockwise direction is the
location of my destiny fork. One way into the abyss, the other to sense and
reason.
Silently I stalked my prey. So easy. Even
after several years of no contact whatsoever, only a fool would imagine safety
by absence.