Lockdown is producing some odd dreams for Alan.
He dreamed he was at an open-cast coal mine and was the only person who could remember how to drive a giant drag-line excavator. There was an old cottage in the way of the ecavations and he was attempting to demolish it with the machine.
I felt quite sad at the idea of the old cottage being swept away. I remembered a walk at Wardle, near Rochdale. There was a village nearby called Watergrove, which was demolished to make way for the reservoir. Datestones from the old houses, the earliest from 1645, have been built into the reservoir walls, and there is a memorial plaque to the last family to be moved out.
There is an excellent history of Wardle and the reservoir here:
I fell to wondering why I felt sad about Alan’s efforts to demolish the cottage. Is it just me, or do people generally nowadays have a reluctance to destroy roots? For this household, even decluttering is hard – everything has a story to tell. With the huge interest in genealogy and adopted children seeking out ther birth parents, it would seem that many are afraid of what the future holds and are looking for a return to the safety of the womb.
Even there, though, we are not safe. As I write, riots are occurring the world over by and on behalf of people disaffected by the treatment they have received on account of the colour. This in the midst of the Covid-19 crisis and Brexit, one wonders all the more what kind of a world we shall emerge into, if ever.