August 19, 2024
History

No man is an island, Entire of itself;

For the last 150 years, Radio 4 has broadcast a shipping forecast 2 or 3 times a day. The earliest one is broadcast at 00.48 and, as I am drifting off to sleep, its mellifluous, steady tones slowly take me around the coastal waters of the UK in a clockwise fashion thus coming around the top of the UK in order is  Fair Isle, Viking, Forties, Dogger, Humber, Thames… I listen to the warnings about windy weather and high seas and feel lucky to be tucked up in bed, warm and safe. Even in winter, it is strangely comforting whilst nevertheless hoping that those at sea have taken heed of any warnings.

Surrounded by seas and with 11,073 miles of coastal paths, or 19,491 miles of path if you include the craggy intricate coastlines of  Britain’s associated islands, the sea and the fact that we are an island defines and underlies much of our history and culture.

 “Dogger” stands for doggerbank, the land mass which once connected Britain to mainland Europe 12,000 years ago, just as the last major ice age was ending, what we now know as the North Sea was a series of gently sloping hills, marshland, heavily wooded valleys and swampy lagoons: Doggerland.

 As the ice sheets retreated north, the rising water levels forced the Mesolithic peoples out of Doggerland as their low-lying settlements were gradually engulfed. Britain became an island and the people migrated either east of west. They were, for the most part, hunter gatherers and fish was a big part of their diet but there are some indication of the beginnings of agriculture so the period is generally considered part of the transition to the Neolithic era.

 Today, we have more leisure time than our ancestors and most of our “hunting and gathering” takes place in supermarkets but the sea remains part of our national heritage. In our country, the furthest point from the sea is only about 100 miles, or about a two   drive. Thus, despite our changeable climate and summers which are more full of optimism than any actual sunshine, going to the seaside is an integral part of our holidays, certainly at least at some point in our lives.

 

For me, it was about making sandcastles, putting up windbreaks, enjoying sandy picnics, paddling or swimming or just listening to the roar of the sea landing and withdrawing from the beach. Low foldable chairs, rugs, thermos flasks and crossword puzzles provided a point from which to explore. My sisters and I used to build large sandcastles with a circular path around them and a network of tunnels through which a golf ball could roll down. Some Cornish beaches had a stream running out to sea which we could dam for a short time and sail a wooden boat in the temporary reservoir before the tide arrived to inexorably wash our efforts away. So many of our family photos are of windswept children carrying spades.

 

Shakespeare’s Richard II defines England as “ This fortress built by Nature for herself “. There is a sense of pride in being an island and it is embedded in our language:

 

“This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi -paradise.”

 

It can also define some of our prejudices as well. Most of my generation grew up with our grandparents’ favourite newspaper headline of 1957: “fog in channel, continent cut off” yet even just the names of the shipping forecast demonstrate our shared heritage and of course the seas were also all about trade and thus  economic benefit.

 

These days we are all interconnected and to quote the great poet and orator Dr John Donne in one of his last speeches before he died:

 

“No man is an island,

Entire of itself;”