My relationship with Kent has been a troubled one over the years. I remember deciding on a railway excursion in the mid 1990s, somewhere on the interminably dull straight line between Tonbridge and Ashford on some dirty old slam-door stock, that I was convinced I didn't like Kent at all. However, over the years as I've explored more I've begun to truly appreciate the diversity of Kent. The sheer size of the county, taking in the broad sweep of land from the English Channel to the Thames Estuary, means that my early churlish observations were of course utterly invalid when applied more widely. In particular, the stretch of coast from the Medway to the North Sea has become something of a favourite spot over the years. Times change, people change - and contrary to our hopes and wishes, places often change too. That is, in a sense, the abiding truth captured in Carol Donaldson's 'On The Marshes'.
At face value, Donaldson's book uses a long, fractured walk along the sometimes impressively bleak marshes of North Kent as an opportunity to unravel and regroup after a serious of challenging life events. Donaldson's early career, living in a caravan and cataloguing the bird population of the marshes equips her beautifully to describe the scenery and its inhabitants. Her most powerful prose is often deployed in describing the expanses of absence which are so impressive in person but so hard to conjure in words. Her love for, and connection with these places is evident in every well-chosen word. This solvitur ambulando trope is of course not entirely new, but it has so often been the preserve of men - and there are points where Donaldson is curling up in her makeshift camp on an island or sleeping in an unlocked country church where the walk - and indeed the narrative - touches on vulnerability and fear. Happily, the greatest threat to Donaldson on her walk is the daddy long-legs, her pathological fear of which rather calls into question the wisdom of devoting her early career to working for the RSPB on the marshes.
As the walk develops, more of the tale unwinds - a relationship parts ways achingly slowly: he is pulled towards the everyday, middle-class world of a career, a house, boxed-sets and takeaways while she feels rooted in the caravan on the marshes. He strays, the Thames a literal and figurative divide, while she struggles to keep her home - finally losing to the machinery of the planning process. Cut loose from people and place Donaldson retraces her steps through the marshes - and this journey becomes as much about the people who have opted out of the norm and into an unorthodox life along the muddy creeks as it is about her own experiences. Along the way, what could be an excruciating tale of self-discovery or a hymn to alternative lifestyles actually begins to grapple with a dichotomy echoed in the management of the marshes: do we want to preserve things forever as they are, unknown and untroubled, or do we want to engage with the world?
At times, there is an oversimplification in the thinking - that those who live in houseboats or tiny plotland cottages are the colourful truth while the rest of the world is a grey and unenlightened fiction - but this is generally balanced by Donaldson's self-searching and often self-deprecating rumination after meeting the cast of characters. She shows utter respect for them, and warmth and appreciation for their lifestyles and choices - but ultimately can't commit to their complete fracture from the wider world. For most of us, I suspect that this would feel the same way - and while that boat or cottage might seem utterly compelling at times of turmoil or strife, it doesn't salve the underlying issues we face. As Donaldson settles on this conclusion herself, she turns her thinking to the land which supports these unofficial communities and the politics of its management. I suspect she and I wouldn't entirely agree on this either - but her case is well-made and she writes from the rare perspective among preservationists of someone who has lived and worked on the land which she writes about.
'On The Marshes' is a strange book which sounds simple on its surface, but surprisingly challenged my thinking as I reflected on reading it. At times I was convinced I didn't like it and disagreed entirely with Donaldson's worldview and political standpoints, but by the close I was rooting for her to find her path and to write more about the landscape she knows so well. What was entirely refreshing in terms of topographical writing, was to read from the female viewpoint - to focus for a refreshing change on acceptance and belonging rather than alienation.
I've written before about Esperi, but make absolutely no apology for once again drawing attention to this, long-anticipated new release. In fact "Melancholics Anonymous" seems to have been in preparation forever, before suddenly and almost apologetically announcing itself to the world. It's fair to say that Esperi - whether it is indeed a band, an individual or a revolving collective of creative folks centred on Dundee-native songwriter Chris Marr - is one of the hardest working entities in Scottish music. A constant string of live dates over the past year or so paused only to allow Chris time to work with fellow troubadours Luke Joyce of I Build Collapsible Mountains and Panda Su. But this hasn't translated into a hectic release schedule however, and this is this first music committed to record since last year's "Esperi EP" on Olive Grove Records which essentially collected together songs which had been scattered around the internet for a while. These mixed the simple, open hearted singer-songwriter approach with more experimental washes of sound and playful instrumentals. But this all-new EP on Fall On Records finally sees the two sides of Esperi welded together. Happily the personal, human warmth remains perfectly intact, while new musical pastures are explored over the space of five delicate, heartfelt compositions.
The record opens with "Homer" which is, in many senses, trademark Esperi. A shuffling beat and a complex, jazzy bass line courtesy of the perhaps unlikely hand of Fat Goth's Kev Black propel the song at a surprisingly jaunty pace at odds with the title of the EP. Meanwhile Chris Marr unravels his reflective, half-spoken musings on fatherhood and parenting. After a quiet, delicate pause for handclaps and bells, Marr's voice is centre stage the song reveals it's eponymous but unlikely hero. There are genuinely tender reminiscences here which vie for emotional space with the swelling, heart-bursting additon of The Korda String Quartet which provides a discrete and sympathetic addition to the track, rather than drowning the song's spirit in strings which is always a temptation when you have musicians of this calibre on hand. The influence of the oddly and guiltily compelling show of the same name sees "Come Dine With Me" skitter in on a burst of untuned TV noise which resolves into more of Chris's beautifully intricate guitar picking and a wash of gentle strings. The sarcasm-drenched daytime cooking contest doesn't have too much further influence on proceedings, beside a reference in the chorus - but this song is full of the warmth of homecoming and shared histories. This also sees the first appearance of another Esperi signature in the use of toy bells and tinkling percussion, as ever performed on improvised instruments constructed from bits of household junk. This, along with Marr's remarkably skilled use of a loop pedal are staples of the Esperi live set, which translate to record surprisingly well.
On "Broadlands", the stripped down backing of just guitar and handbells allows Marr's lyrics to take a bolder, broader sweep. It's brief and simple, gently and reverently detailing life-long friendship and suggesting how a time-worn connection allows people to unerringly read each other in it's refrain "your eyes/never too hard to disguise". It's these interludes, short and direct, heart worn firmly on sleeve, which set Esperi apart from those who spin darker, more oblique tales. What you hear is most definitely what you get, and the song ebbs away into birdsong and countryside sounds far too soon. There is an otherworldly, dreamlike quality to "Luke" which seems to describe a much loved, sleeping dog, but in such delicate and tender detail that its impossible not to be swept up in Marr's strange mix of celebration and melancholy reflection. Weaving his breathy lyrical delivery around a sheen of noise and clinking, ringing percussion sounds and a quiet thunder of bass, it's here too that his lyrics become perhaps their most touchingly descriptive with lines like "watching you sleep/is like watching a meadow/with each breath that you take/your hair ebbs and flows". As ever, Esperi delivers those surprising, lump-in-throat moments when they're least expected. The EP closes with "Who I Am" which is a surprisngly forthright exposition of the Esperi ethic. It's tempting to reason that Marr is telling us exactly why he's working so hard for his songs to be heard as he quietly but forcefully suggests "it's in my bones/it helps me grow". The song gradually builds with gentle drums and resounding washes and crashes of cymbal adding an oddly nautical ebb and flow to the sound. Marr's quiet lyrical strength is at its best here, and when the song finally breaks free in a clamour of military drums, bells and crashes, it's liberating and illuminating in equal measure. Finally, it all dissolves into tape hiss and disappears back to Esperi's homegrown roots.
Once again Esperi has managed to capture the sound of hearts breaking and being reforged on this brief collection of songs which focus on passing time, love and loss, growth and change without descending into schmaltz or allowing sentimentality to get the better of them. While this EP strikes a middle ground between the song-based and experimental work which has been kept resolutely separate in the past, across the five songs here the lyrical themes couldn't be more varied or their detail more acutely observed. There are plenty of artists ploughing the solo singer-songwriter furrow nowadays, and probably always will be - but you'll struggle to find an artist more inventive and committed than Chris Marr.
Esperi_-_Come Dine With Me
You can download "Melancholics Anonymous" on a pay-what-you-like basis from Esperi's Bandcamp page. The video for "Come Dine With Me" can be seen here too. Esperi will play at the Go North festival in Inverness on 6th/7th June, with more dates to be announced shortly.
I've noticed over the years that sometimes my travels seem to cluster together visits to certain areas. It's sometimes a deliberate thing, like when I decided that the blank space in my atlas around Merseyside needed attention a few years back - but equally often it seems to be an accident of timing. Thus, I found myself visiting the East Midlands again today just a few days after my last foray here, and only weeks after a very comprehensive covering of the rarer spots on a BLS trip. Oddly, I've only really sped through the area for a long time, having thought I'd exhausted it's possibilities long ago and turned to more exciting pastures. However, with the recent reopening of the Ecclesbourne Valley Railway from Duffield I've started to look at the area with renewed interest.
Firstly, it's good to see some fairly comprehensive re-openings in the heritage sector this year after a couple of quiet recession-hit years where preserved railways sat back and hoped that the horribly-named 'staycation' would keep the cash flowing through difficult times. Then rather suddenly after years of promises and lots of effort, Peak Rail make the connection at Matlock within weeks of this line finally reopening over it's full length. This puts the EVR's eight and a half mile line up there alongside the medium-sized outfits in the UK and makes it accessible to a much wider range of punters. Indeed the absolutely crush-loaded Class 153 which did the honours between Derby and Duffield this morning carried a fair few passengers destined for the EVR. With fine weather and still something of a buzz following the opening weekend a couple of weeks back, the railway seemed to be enjoying quite a boom. Booked tickets and then wandered into Duffield to explore a little before the first departure north at 11:10. This was formed of a five-car set of first generation DMU cars. A motley mixture of types and liveries, but all in excellent internal and external condition. Found a seat near the front with a fairly good view out of the driver's window up the dead straight, gently sloping branch.
Noted particularly that the railway was tidy - not much in the way of discarded scrap stock lying around like many of these places. The trackbed was clear, and the staff I met were incredibly proud of the place and very friendly indeed. I'm not sure if it was due to the fact the railway was still busy after reopening, or the - well, lets say 'advancing' age of the customers, but there was an incredible amount of moaning about seats. People seemed determined to claim huge amounts of space and when one old chap was denied a seat at the front, he promptly stood blocking everyone's view. I'm used to this sort of thing from steam types, but it was a mild annoyance on what was otherwise and interesting trip up the valley. On arriving at Wirksworth, quickly switched over to a shuttle up the incline to Ravenstor. This short, but incredibly steep run was operated by No.3 a small industrial steam locomotive, and a DMU car. The EVR were running additional services to cope with demand, and we managed to squeeze into one of these for the run up and back. Back at Wirksworth the station was busy with people hoping to board the 12:10 steam service back down the branch. Elected instead to have a wander into the busy little town and a pint in the Red Lion Hotel.
Returned to the station, braving the very busy but rather good buffet which was stationed in some very well turned out former-Gatwick Express stock stabled near the platform. Found a seat on the 14:20 back down the branch, despite more silliness from the old-enough-to-know-better bunch about who should be sitting where. A rather sleepy run back down to Duffield in the warm afternoon, with a long week and an early start catching up on me. When we arrived back, quite a crowd was evident at the small station shop and on the platform enjoying the sun. Over the bridge to the mainline station, where a further small crowd was waiting. Mercifully a pristine EMT Class 158 rolled in for the brief journey back to Derby.
It's great to see the EVR open for its full length and that plenty of people are keen to visit. With planned passing loops already well underway, there's no reason why a more intensive special event service couldn't run soon - with some very interesting galas possible. Despite the minor irritation of lots of disgruntled pensioners, today was a fine day out on a railway which is very clearly a labour of love for a small group.
Back from a week away in the north. Accompanied some friends on what was originally to be a holiday based in a cottage fronting the West Coast Mainline. When this proved uninhabitable, moved on to Penrith as a base. A very pleasant small town indeed.
Took the advantage of being in Cumbria to purchase and make extensive use of a Freedom of the Northwest Rover. Started out on Monday with a trip down to Chester for lunch, out via Crewe and back via Warrington. Returned for classy dinner at the George in Penrith. Another long rail trip on Tuesday, starting with an hour or so at Carlisle which produced 37029 with a noisy light engine trip through the station, followed by the Malcolm train. The diesel fumes from 37029 had yet to dissipate when we boarded our train for Skipton via the Settle & Carlisle. Lunch and exploring at Skipton - including a boat trip on the Springs Canal, then home to Penrith via Lancaster.
A shorter journey on Wednesday, to Windermere. A very pleasant, if breezy, trip on the MV Teal from Bowness to Lakeside. Object was to visit the Lakeside and Haverthwaite Railway. Didn't know much about the short line, but I was pleasantly surprised to find 26001 and 20214 in the shed at Haverthwaite. Crossed the treacherous dual carriageway to the Anglers Arms for excellent food and beer, then a slightly wetter trip back to Bowness.
Back at Penrith, we explored more local pubs including the quiet, friendly Lowther Arms and the busier Board and Elbow. Half-heartedly entered the pub quiz at the latter, and ended up thrashing the locals and doubling the score of the second place team! Slunk away with a pocket full of cash, bottle of wine and a free pint!
Thursday saw us travel north to Scotland, a first for some of our party. Very pleasant weather for the run into Glasgow Central. Seized by all the usual pangs of regret that I was only in one of my favourite haunts for a matter of a few hours. Spent some time at both Central and Queen Street and wandered around the city a little, playing tour guide to some extent. Eventually decided to take an official bus tour, which turned out to be rather good fun.
On Friday, we decided to visit the East Lancashire Railway - something planned for Sunday but abandoned due to seeking new accommodation. Rather quiet since it was a weekday, but interesting to chat to the staff and good to see 40135 even if it was masquerading as departmental 97406.
Farce at Preston on the return journey, as the wires were down south of Lancaster. Nothing moving northwards for some time. Eventually, after many false starts and wrong announcements Thunderbird 57305 arrived and backed on to the front of the 1723 Pendolino for Glasgow which had been sitting at platform 4 for over an hour. Once Virgin staff finally agreed on the revised stopping pattern for the service, set off under 57 power as far as Lancaster where the loco was detached, and then back to Penrith.
A long winding drive back today, through the Welsh Marches, with sudden storms of heavy rain in the Wye Valley.
Lost::MikeGTN
I've had a home on the web for more years than I care to remember, and a few kind souls persuade me it's worth persisting with keeping it updated. This current incarnation of the site is centred around the blog posts which began back in 1999 as 'the daylog' and continued through my travels and tribulations during the following years.
I don't get out and about nearly as much these days, but I do try to record significant events and trips for posterity. You may also have arrived here by following the trail to my former music blog Songs Heard On Fast Trains. That content is preserved here too.
