When I first moved to Essex, about 17 years ago I couldn't really see what all the fuss was concerning Mersea. The way that the tide slides in and out with barely a ripple seemed rather a let down after living right beside the crashing waves at Trebarwith Strand in North Cornwall.
When we moved to Mersea 10 years ago it was lovely for the artist to be back where he was born and gradually I started to see the beauty of the huge skies, the birds and the fantastic sunsets.
This week I am up in Norfolk helping my brother to care for my lovely dad and I miss Mersea, my family and my cafes like crazy. I haven't made a single scone since Sunday and although it is really good to be spending time with another branch of my family it is in rather sad circumstances. My Dad has become very confused in the last few weeks and it has made me realise how rubbish we are generally at caring for our elderly. Both my parents were extremely lucky to have been taken to Norfolk by my brother and his wife when they decided to leave London for a better life. My mum used to say it was like being on holiday all the time. I am tempted to bring my dad to Mersea for awhile (if I can squeeze him into our house) so that my brother can have a rest but I'm not sure he will come.
I think we are really lucky on Mersea. In the cafe I often see elderly people who could have been lonely chatting with others who they only know because we live on the same island.
I was going to set down my opinion of Jacket Potatoes this evening but once I start thinking about things I get a bit stuck. Jacket Potato politics another day.