At present I’m wrestling with writing a semi-autobiographical monologue. I’m wondering how far to go with it, what do I really need to say? Who am I in danger of upsetting? Should I censor myself?
One evening, on holiday in Suffolk, I take a walk along the shore at Aldeburgh and find my answer. ‘I hear those voices that will not be drowned’. A threatening, inky blue sky, raindrops in the wind and there on the rocky shore these words are pierced on the edge of a giant scallop lying on the pebble beach. The sculpture is the work of Maggi Hambling in honour of composer Benjamin Britten.
If these words are taken out of the context of the tragic events in Peter Grimes (to which they refer) then they are fitting not just for musicians and composers but also the authors of written and spoken word.
In Suffolk, our cottage is quite remote, we awake to hares in the garden and deer in the neighbouring field. Lack of internet connection ensures that I take time out from reviewing my test website for listenupnorth and a break from the constant emails back and forth between myself and Dean my website designer.
Only one thing to do as I rest between visiting the many gems of East Anglia, I allow myself the time and luxury of writing. I plough on with my monologue, Celia; “I hear those voices that will not be drowned”.
Anglo Saxon mask at Sutton Hoo (top left)
Ely Cathedral (top right)
Norfolk Broads (left)
