The Christmas trees were about the mixture of traditional and conceptual that you'd expect, and I wasn't too fussed about them, though I don't mind that sort of thing as long as it's presented as a harmless community activity and not cluttering up the Tate. You could vote for your favourite tree (we didn't) and there was a stall selling Christmas decorations, where I bought a star made out of rose hips for our tree for 75p. There were refreshments, and a little girl playing carol tunes on a piano, and lots of people exuded happy Christmas vibes, and the event was in aid of the hospice. It was a nice thing to go to.
The main reason I wanted to go, apart from supporting the local community, was to get inside All Saints. When we passed it on a walk once it was locked, and I'm not sure how often it's open. You can appreciate much of the beauty of the church from the outside. Simon Jenkins gives it one star, and says the tower is one of the finest in the county. It is very fine, built of knapped flint in the Perp style, and visible from miles around. The attraction inside is the frieze of Victorian tiles commemorating Brightlingsea parishoners lost at sea. There are 213 of them, 15cm square, running as a dado around the walls. They get an entry in my Tile Gazetteer (yes, I do possess such a thing. I bought it at the Tile Museum at the Ironbridge gorge museums complex, and have been known to take it on holiday with me) of more than half a page.
Starting at random near the base of the tower, and dodging around a woman who was intent on photographing the Christmas trees, it became apparent that there must have been a very bad storm on 6 March 1883. Six men were lost with the smack Recruit, and six more on the Conquest. The lugger Misrotte was lost with five men, and there was a tile to someone washed overboard from another boat. Most losses seemed to have involved entire crews. Six drowned in the North Sea with the smack Glance in January 1891. When the Gemina was lost off Dover with her crew of four, the Master was aged 55 and the youngest victim 15. He shared a surname with one of the other crew members, suggesting a double loss for one family.
We couldn't see some of the tiles, because they were hidden behind Christmas trees. Sidney Conrad Siebert, aged 30, perished in the wreck of SS Titanic. There were tiles for yachtsmen who'd drowned, people who'd died and been buried at sea, and Brightlingsea sailors lost on the opposite coast of England and the far side of the world. From 1914 onwards tiles start appearing for sailors killed in the Great War. Eventually we came to a poster that explained that the tiles were the inspiration of the vicar, the Reverend Arthur Pertwee. Nineteen people in total were lost in the storm of March 1883, which was the disaster that triggered him into action. He researched earlier losses from the parish, and others kept the tradition up after him. As well as commemorating the dead, he assisted the living by climbing the Perp tower to light a lamp on dark nights, to act as a beacon for the sailors.
The Christmas tree festival is on today and tomorrow from 10.0am until 6.00pm and is worth a visit, and worth getting there early because this morning it was heaving by the time we left. You can see pictures of the tiles on this website, and the Systems Administrator and I thought we would try and find a time when the church was open to have a detailed look at them without Christmas trees in the way.
Addendum They were giving away copies of the East Anglian Daily Times last night at Colchester station. Most of page 3 was taken up with a story about how the council is considering closing the public lavatories at Lavenham to save money. As I read the story I felt myself coming all over Philip Larkin (I'd skip this bit if you aren't interested in poetry).
Homage to Babergh District Council
Next year we are to shut the public loos
for lack of money, and it is all right.
Old boys who need to crap, or take a pee,
Must cross their legs and cut back on the tea.
We want the money for ourselves at home
Instead of working. And this is all right.
It's hard to say who wanted it to happen,
But now it's been decided nobody minds.
Their bursting bladders are a long way off, not here,
Which is all right, and from what we hear
The incontinent toddlers only made trouble happen.
Next year we shall be easier in our minds.
Next year we shall be living in a county
That shut its public loos for lack of money.
The guildhall will be standing in the same
Timber-framed street, and look nearly the same.
Our children will not know it's a different country.
All we can hope is to cut the deficit.
2011
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