Inner voices replay triumphs of past But inner whispers say cannot last Essential self-delusions of being human Curses every man and woman But when age or injury make you slow The final triumph is to just let go.
I cycle with a lot of very fit people. Some are older and some are considerably younger. Some are competitive and some are not. Unfortunately, age and injury don’t respect temperament or talent, which is particularly hard for those who are used to putting in the extra effort and miles to achieve results. But for all of us eventual decline and degradation is the only certainty. The challenge is achieving a graceful decline. I strive for this nirvana.
1. Second Severn Crossing viewed from Severn Beach village. Attribution: Matt Buck [CC-BY-SA-3.0] Click to view larger image.Version 1
Severn Beach has history Once Blackpool of the West Only ghostly echoes now remain As commuters build their nest Shirley’s Cafe near the shore Mug of coffee from an urn Silent juke-box in the corner The turntable doesn’t turn Giant slab of fruit cake Adds to energy store At value-for-money prices That tempts you into more Then visit near empty promenade See Severn Bridges in the sky Then listen to that whisper Of past’s fast-fading cry.
……. Severn Beach has history. Once Blackpool of the West. Only ghostly echoes now remain, as commuters build their nest. Shirley’s Cafe near the shore, draws boiling water from an urn. Silent jukebox in the corner. The turntable doesn’t turn. Stop at the bakery near the steps, where the Blue Lagoon once lay. Now just imagine the background, of excited populous at play. Visit the near empty promenade. See Severn Bridges in the sky. Then listen to the whisper, of the past’s fast fading cry.
……. Severn Beach has history. Once Blackpool of the West. Only ghostly echoes now remain, as commuters build their nest. Shirley’s Cafe near the shore, draws boiling water from an urn. Silent jukebox in the corner. The turntable doesn’t turn. Stop at the bakery near the steps, where the Blue Lagoon once lay. Imagine now the hubbub, of excited populous at play. Visit the near empty promenade. See Severn Bridges in the sky. Then listen to the whisper, of the past’s fast fading cry.
[To listen to this verse select below]
Severn Beach
by
Derek Morrison
Severn Beach village was one of the micro ‘beach’ resorts that sprung up in the early 20th century to provide accessible venues for the British working class to spend their holidays or weekends. A local railway station would boost such developments. Anticipating the extension of the railway from Avonmouth docks in 1924, what had once been no more than a farm on the muddy banks of the Severn Estuary was, in 1922, transformed into a ‘seaside’ resort complete with the Blue Lagoon swimming pool, boating lake, amusements, less restrictive alcohol licensing laws than nearby Bristol – oh – and a strip club. Some wit of the past, apparently with an inclination for hyperbole, dubbed it the Blackpool of the West.
The tone of this short multimedia work attempts to convey the pathos associated with a visit to a largely forgotten landscape and history. It’s knowledge of this past which makes a visit to Severn Beach today so worthwhile. On the surface, it’s just another village on the outskirts of Bristol but, yet, walk a few yards off its main street, and you are on the banks of the Severn Estuary where the echoes of that history still reverberate. Amplify those echoes and wallow in the ambience of Shirley’s Cafe which still provides the sort of unpretentious but good food that existed before quasi bistros and gastro-pubs. If you are more a take-away person then Down’s Bakery can provide the fuel for that walk along the Severn Path.
Severn Beach, pathos, yes. But perhaps also an oasis.
