Your Monday mote

A day of reflection

My mote this week was to be about the wonderful day I spent at Essex Writers House, which is located in the middle of Chalkwell Park.

It was all ready to go but you won’t read it here today, or probably any day. I waxed lyrical about the beautiful space, the luxury of having time to think about my book, to write at leisure and how the change of location enabled me to see everything from the premise of the novel to the characters, differently.

The day was perfection.

That was Friday.

On Saturday, I learned that a six-year-old girl, who was visiting the park from London with her family, died when a branch of a tree broke away and crushed her. Another child was seriously injured and three others escaped with minor injuries. A number of people who were in the area rushed to help but from what I can tell, it took 30 or 40 people to lift the tree trunk.

The news of her death has sent shockwaves through the town, and my heart goes out to her family and friends.

This is a beloved park, a place that is known to be safe. There’s a cricket club, football fields, basketball courts, playgrounds, a pond, a cafe, an events space, a rose garden and the manor house, which is used as a creative space.

People come here to picnic, work out, hang out, do yoga, enjoy the views of the sea from the open grassy spaces and relax. During lockdown, I would cycle through this park at sunrise, taking note of the roses as they burst into life across the seasons.

Growing up nearby, I would often play here. I fished for tadpoles here, took part in sports days here, enjoyed the fairground here. And like many others who grew up in the area, I played under and around that same tree many times.

The tree itself is huge. The branches are almost the size of other trees and the biggest ones were shored up by metal poles. I can’t imagine such a horror unfolding in what has long been a joyful space but it did. And for many people, life changed in an instant.

Within 24 hours, a space that was beautiful turned ugly in the most horrific way.

This post is for that little girl who lost her life doing what all kids do. It shouldn’t have happened. She should still be alive. And I know this is a writing blog but I couldn’t in all good conscience send out the email and not mention it. But to mention it and then forge ahead and continue to talk about my day, seemed utterly crass.

I know that bad things happen all the time but this tragedy has really hit close to home. And bundled up with memories of my own childhood playing in that same spot, I just feel a desperate and wretched sadness for a little girl who will never grow up.

So today, I’m taking time to reflect on that.

I will be back next week with more of my usual fare.

Lisa