New Hope

Where did it all go? The time and tide have not waited, lost. adrift, a lonely sea and sky. But we are all still here. a quiet water runs by.

Changes are things we must constantly adapt to, the passage of years, the cruelty of misread relationships, the loss and suffering of grief.

My mother succumbed to cancer, the endless voyage of death, they were not good days. I believed in the trust of others only to be betrayed. A fall from grace.

Settled now. Peaceful now. The winter edging in to bring us colder days is welcome now. Gone the faux summer, gone the unrequited hopes of yesterday.

Today we look upon the harbour as our sanctuary, the comfortable wall encirles our lives and gives us purpose; it is our favourite season as herring nets bring full catches and the fishery that built Clovelly is alive and kicking in our boats.

There are few that remember the herring, it's rites and traditions. There are fewer who partake; I am the last full time herring man left and proud to be so.

So much has changed and yet we few remain.

The ill-judged years are behind us now and happy with joy in our hearts we wait, as surely as the tide will return, we wait. So Clovelly waits, having survived the flood and tourist famine, the ceaseless deluge. Yet people still find beauty in her damp demeanour. Clovelly waits and each day brings us closer to the next in-rushing wave and a new day of hope.