Value in reflection and remembrance

We are coming out of Lockdown 3 in a way that mirrors our life afloat – slow but sure. There’s no point in rushing things. Taking time can prevent accidents as I know too well. My own unscheduled, never-to-be-forgotten, plunge into the icy waters of the River Soar not far from a weir was the result of excessive, unnecessary haste. The loss of a mobile phone, a Fitbit, and any semblance of dignity after I had to be landed like a drowning whale on a towpath by husband and strangers heaving hard to get me up from the depths remains a salutary lesson…(we do now own a rescue ladder which should save members of the public having to haul me out should it happen again).

This week we joined many supporting the pubs reopening (outside). It was rapidly apparent lockdowns have changed our personal drinking habits – one pint was enough to nearly send me to sleep! After 3.5 months moored a stone’s throw from a pub in Soouth Derbyshire, by the time they opened we had cruised across the River Trent. We raised a glass in the beautiful Staffordshire village of Alrewas which we visited last year when its pubs were also shut.

Getting back on the move was tinged with nerves – perhaps how many people have felt about return to offices and other workplaces. Will we remember what to do (never fear – locks are like riding bikes, never forgotten skills), will we encounter hundreds of boats and get stuck for mooring (not yet but it’s definitely busy), will we remember how to juggle moving and working etc. (it appears so!)

The instant pleasure of moving on has unbelievably rapidly erased much of the frustrations we experienced by being impounded in one place for so long.

I wonder whether this is the start of a return to an old way of life which although still tinged by change (masks, distancing, outside meeting). Will we pick up the reins of our old lives with relief, and will this erode our memories and erase the reality of what we have have all been through. I am sure that will not be so for those touched directly by the loss or horror of Covid , but for many we overhear on the towpath (people hold very personal conversations oblivious to canal boat dwellers so we have no choice but to hear), it’s a time people are desperate to forget. Whilst I recognise it is important to move on and not dwell on the pandemic 24/7, I feel that a failure to remember and reflect would be an immense loss to us as a nation, and as individuals. We have individually and collectively learned much, achieved much and need to recognise and remember that as well as appreciating the efforts and sacrifices made during this time.

The ways we reflect and remember are many and vital to our collective, national and personal selves. As Alexander Pope observed in his Essay on Man and other Poems the two go hand in hand:

“Remembrance and reflection how allied!
What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!”

It is important to learn from our experiences, reactions, and responses. To make that which we have endured count in the future. Sometimes physical reminders act as triggers. The kindness of strangers will enable me reflect upon our long Lockdown 3 sojourn in Willington, South Derbyshire even though the memory of it is rapidly fading, superceded by new experiences and sights.

We’ve been picking up more ducks – thanks to the lovely people we met at Willington. Joan brought us an antique wooden flying mallard drake which has pride of place on the bedroom wall whilst Kim and Chris gave us a mallard duck. She joins the pewter wine bottle stopper duck on a windowsill opposite the sofa (we never did work out why one would need a wine bottle stopper…!). The flock also now includes Will our figurehead mallard, introduced in last week’s blog, made for us by Paul and Christine on Foxtrot.

The ducks will remind us of individuals, of the kindness of strangers, how strangers become meaningful acquaintances or friends, and the resilience we all developed during that time in Lockdown 3. Remembrance does not have to be maudlin or sad but can be joyous and uplifting. It can celebrate our individual and collective capacity for good, and remind us to learn from our experiences.

The National Memorial Arboretum (NMA) is a poignant but massive celebration of remembrance and reflection for us all in beautiful surroundings. Just a short walk from Alrewas where we moored, it was packed this week with families, couples and individuals. Lots were enjoying the Stickman Trail whilst all were making new discoveries.

Every visit here is so different – the seasons, the weather, the opportunity to spot something not seen before. It’s a place to find connections with ancestors, share time with loved ones, hear stories of daring do, enjoy peaceful walks and spectacular sculptures, picnic and play. Astonishingly it is also a place that remains free to enter, and let’s hope it remains that way so we can all enjoy the opportunity to remember, reflect and learn about our past.

From the collective and individual efforts and exploits in conflicts of the armed forces and civilians, to those lost in peacetime from stillbirth or illness, this is a peaceful, contemplative and celebratory place. It seeks to be inclusive and all-embracing. I was reminded of the awesome efforts of Captain Sir Tom Moore in galvanising us during the pandemic to support the NHS, and of Prince Philip, his contribution during and since the war, and his connection to my father, another WW2 veteran.

My father got to know Prince Philip well in 1953 at the time of the Coronation, long before I was thought of! As the assigned Royal Navy helicopter pilot he regularly flew the Prince to and from Buckingham Palace, landing on the Palace lawns. He held a lifelong admiration for the no-nonsense, plain spoken Prince, and wore the MBE he was awarded in the Queen’s Coronation Honours with immense pride.

The Queen herself was a truck mechanic during the war, one of thousands of women who stepped in to take the place of once male jobs while men were fighting at the front. These women ensured our nation was fed and functioning during the Second World War. They are remembered with various memorials at the NMA along with cipher teams of women (of whom my mother was one) who supported the troops with information and munitions makers who made arms for them. One group are missing though – there is no mention of the “Idle Women” who worked so hard on our canals. Surely this is some oversight- after all these women did a job ‘no one would touch with a bargepole’!

Back to 2021 and the NMA have set aside a place for a Covid memorial which is just waiting for government backing. It will be a good way in time to honour those who have developed, administered and accepted the vaccine to protect others; to those who have worked tirelessly in hospitals, care homes and communities, schools and supermarkets, those who have never stopped working to help us all to carry on, as well as to those we have lost as a result of this horrendous pandemic. Future generations and we ourselves need to remember and reflect on how we have each played a part in enabling a return to some hopefully enhanced way of life. We must remember how this pandemic has helped us appreciate the important things in life, many of which may appear small but which are crucial to us – presence not presents, people not possessions.

We need to remember lest we forget…

And reflect so we learn the most we can from this life changing experience.