Thank you to Lucy Ribchester for a stimulating workshop! She encouraged us to imagine the Meadows in past times, so here goes…
Meet Dr Blake, letting himself out out of his house and walking up the High Street at 3am. It’s summer and the dawn is lighting. He raises his top hat to a servant girl, yoked to two large pails, and staggering home with water from the public pump. Dr Blake turns south and heads for the Meadows. He can already hear the dawn chorus tuning up as he strides through the gates to the path that runs down to the causeway. The Meadows are shrouded in mist, and a recumbent cow heaves herself up when he passes. Dr Blake mutters an apology and raises his hat to the lady. The huddled sheep stare at him as he strides through the dew, until he comes to a stand of young trees and bushes, only dimly visible but the source of a glorious volume of birdsong. Dr Blake is transfixed: he remains there, quite unaware he is not alone until the concert is over, and the sun is dispelling the mist. A workman has materialised beside him. His bonnet and jacket are studded with whisps of grass, but he looks well rested after his al fresco night. After wishing each other Good Morning, and tipping their respective headgear, the workman says that he’s about to report for work on the Lough drainage project. Dr Blake is immediately interested and asks to be shown the site. So they walk over to the causeway, and slip down the other side, where an expanse of mud awaits them. The drainage has been underway for a couple of years, and the Lough is now reduced to a sad pond, surrounded by desolation. Dr Blake asks about the large boulders that stand around like neglected playthings, and his companion explains that they will attempt to blow them up, today, as they cannot be shifted. This alarming news reminds the good doctor that his break-fast awaits, so he sets off, picking his way over the mud, which adheres to his damp boots. Back on dry land, he appears to have feet of clay. The watchman greets him as he returns to the waking city, now abuzz and redolent with the aroma of baked bread and bubbling porridge. The High Street is already crowded with people hurrying to work or carting fresh produce. His maid is just opening the door when an almighty blast rattles the timber houses and stops everyone in their tracks. The Frenchies are coming, a voice cries, but then all is still and city life resumes. After wolfing down some porridge with a few slices of ham, Dr Blake heads for the infirmary, where his patients are waiting. He wonders when the call will come: in his experience, any kind of explosion entails casualties. He hopes they will be carried to the infirmary as he fears his boots will not survive another visit to the Meadows.
©sarahtolley
Yes, there was a loch, where the community garden now is…
Meadows Community Gardens 