During August I like to have time off to read, think and visit family and friends who are widely scattered across the country. It gives me a chance to rest and reflect, while journeying. To do and not do.
It was not possible this year. I let go of trying to do much but stayed where I was. Tourists came to this area in spades, no doubt driven by the Covid19 situation and it’s stay in the UK reality.
Like a lot of locals living in tourist areas, I kept my head down. For some reason, the people who came seemed to forget about social distancing or wearing face coverings. I do not know about their hand hygiene.
Going out was a wary affair. I picked quiet times and places to go and get food, plants for the garden and any DIY needs, avoiding the coast and towns like Southwold, or Aldeburgh which are very much on my patch. Best left alone. Any way I’ve always loved these places off-season.
Though I made my first my first foray to Sizewell beach in late June, I went again in August, armed with sanitiser and a face covering, in case of crowds. This turned out to be an unnecessary precaution as there were no crowds, and the queues for the loos and take-away were very orderly.
Some say the beauty of the Suffolk coastline has been preserved because there is no direct, fast route to it. Tourists tend to pour off the A12, between Lowestoft and Ipswich, or the A14 and labour through scenic countryside to get to the best spots, near towns like Pakefield, Kessingland, Southwold, Walberswick, Dunwich, Thorpeness, Aldeburgh, Orford, Bawdsey, Felixstowe and Harwich.
The beaches tend to be pebbled rather than sandy, the shingle supporting some unique wildlife.
Sizewell beach is presided over by the Sizewell B nuclear power station, whose white dome can be seen for miles. It sits on the edge of a shingle beach, on an eroding coastline. Below it, sections of the beach have been roped-off to protect Little Tern nests from dogs. Little Terns nest in the shingle and their chicks are easily alarmed by dogs and wander off. Like swifts and swallows, they visit from Africa each year, returning in the autumn.
Ever since I came here, I’ve been drawn to the coastal flora, finding fascinating the adaptions the plants have made to survive the salt water and prevailing wind. Wild plants often become tinier and more compact than their landlubber cousins. Or are simply unique, such as the yellow horned sea poppy, which can be seen on the coastline in August, along with sea kale, campion, and pea.
The building of a Sizewell C next to it, of course is contentious. The voice of environmental lobby is loud, but the hard-hat brigade seems even louder. My doormat is hit regularly by post from either group.
The environmentalists argue that the impact would be too great on this fragile bit of coastline, the hard-hatters say that electricity must be generated this way to cut carbon-dioxide emission and preserve other natural reserves; oil, gas, coal. There would be employment also, and an economic boost to the area.
Yes, there would be massive disruption to the area while it was being built, but I think this would fade, along with the employment and economic boom. We simply do not know how the local wildlife would fare. Maybe it would adapt as it always has.
My main concern is with the waste this kind of electricity generation makes. Will we be leaving, for the generations to come, high grade mutagens? I think at this point I ought to admit to a bit of an irrational fear. What would happen if a huge tidal wave engulfed it, battered the foundations, and dislodged the radioactive core? Radiation sickness could be our legacy.
That, and the eroding nature of the coastline. Half of Aldeburgh is in the sea and most of Dunwich. They were once thriving sea ports. Surrounding Sizewell with coastal defences – another contentious topic – could mean more erosion elsewhere.
When I last visited Sizewell beach, I walked towards Thorpeness, stopping at a tunnel of trees, which I could have walked through, high on the cliff edge. I turned to scan the horizon. I could see blades of the sea-turbines, glinting as they caught the sun to my right. In the distance was Southwold shimmering, it’s new shorter pier, went into the sea blunt ended. Dwarfing it, even at a distance, was the most enormous white ship I have ever seen. Maybe it was a cruise liner carrying cargo, maybe a cargo ship, headed for Felixstowe.
I remembered photos I had seen of Edwardian ladies with billowing dresses disembarking on to a longer pier, from ships that had brought them from London for the day.
New Directions 