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By the Thames
Elspeth's Journal
June 22, 1891
Another night onboard the ship and I dare not leave my cabin, because the corridors are rank with the stench of frying fish.
I have always despised fish, in part because I am stricken with a particularly delicate nose, but also because of the incident at the Millwall docks when I was not older than ten. Quite a dreadful day that was, dragged to the edge of the Thames by my father's hand in the suffocating heat of mid-afternoon. In those days, the Royal Albert docks were not yet complete, and the planners paraded many a clerk by Millwall to consult on the various options for expansion, now that the riverbank was overcrowded.
As we arrived, my father became engaged in conversation and I, with a child's natural curiosity, crept closer and peered into the murky waters. Tiny waves slapped against the wood, sounding like the tongues of thirsty dogs. A boat had only just docked, in from a fishing trip. It was called the 'Randy Seafarer'. My mind translated that into a proper name, a rich fellow by the name of Randolph who owned the vessel. The fishermen cast their monstrous net overboard. It was filled with the slick, silver bodies of sprat. They were dead, but as the small fish slipped the net and landed around my buckled shoes, I daydreamt they sprung back to life. Their vacuous eyes blinked, their mouths gaped, and they flipped and turned somersaults beneath my hem.
( Little Blessings )
June 22, 1891
Another night onboard the ship and I dare not leave my cabin, because the corridors are rank with the stench of frying fish.
I have always despised fish, in part because I am stricken with a particularly delicate nose, but also because of the incident at the Millwall docks when I was not older than ten. Quite a dreadful day that was, dragged to the edge of the Thames by my father's hand in the suffocating heat of mid-afternoon. In those days, the Royal Albert docks were not yet complete, and the planners paraded many a clerk by Millwall to consult on the various options for expansion, now that the riverbank was overcrowded.
As we arrived, my father became engaged in conversation and I, with a child's natural curiosity, crept closer and peered into the murky waters. Tiny waves slapped against the wood, sounding like the tongues of thirsty dogs. A boat had only just docked, in from a fishing trip. It was called the 'Randy Seafarer'. My mind translated that into a proper name, a rich fellow by the name of Randolph who owned the vessel. The fishermen cast their monstrous net overboard. It was filled with the slick, silver bodies of sprat. They were dead, but as the small fish slipped the net and landed around my buckled shoes, I daydreamt they sprung back to life. Their vacuous eyes blinked, their mouths gaped, and they flipped and turned somersaults beneath my hem.
( Little Blessings )