To report the behaviour of the sea monster

IMG00353-20140214-0757As if by magic, this morning on Bamburgh beach we found revealed once again the old wreck  – a fossil of a most extraordinary kind – which was uncovered after decades under the sandbanks by the great big seas we had up here last November.  Those who study such manifestations descended and reported their findings, working quickly at very low tide and only until the sand shifted over the skeleton once more. Today I was thrilled by its unexpected resurgence and greeted its reappearance noisily, whereas Barnaby boldly and joyfully danced around it, as our little video at the end of this piece shows.

In this world of water in which we now live we are all getting used to seeing things transformed – fields flowing into forests, trees swimming against the tide, boulders breaking through walls and window glass and the rich and famous running from their mansions for the warmth and comfort of the nearest Travelodge, or even a dodgy old lilo in a dusty church hall. In another kind of civil war, our countrymen are fighting their countryside and coast and, once again – as I said yesterday – the world’s turned upside down. As I write, it is still peaceful outside, though the sky is darkening and the radio relates that torrential rain is falling on the sodden west, where the wind is up and what are left of the hatches are being battened down by those who must endure more of the unendurable.

There are many questions we would ask. We seek the soothsayers’ expertise and scrutinise the frown lines in the mirror.  Look within ‘The Dry Salvages’, third of T S Eliot’s Four Quartets – bits of which profound poem Kemo Sabe frequently reads out – and you find much about water and its ways. We little fellows have our own relationship with and thoughts about it, living as we do alongside a coastline not unlike Cape Cod’s: one of lovely beaches and ever-changing seas; seas which throw up shells and seals, carcases of one kind and another, vertebrae wrung from the backs of beasts which once breasted the very waves which bore them; seas which swallow ferries, merchant vessels, crabbing boats and cobles. I have often pondered about looking into the water and today I feel we all must do it now, more than ever.

If you wish to read about the Bamburgh wreck, here is one website of interest:

Our little video shows what a calm and pleasant morn it was on which we found the wreck – such a lovely surprise for us all. As usual Uncle Newmie is out of the picture, tied to Kemo Sabe lest he consume too much seaweed and do himself a mischief.