Sunday, May 29, 2011

Sound of the sea

In the morning early
I go down to the sea
And I see the mist on the shore;
I listen and I listen.

I was brought up near the sea and have listened to it all my life.

My junior school was an Edwardian edifice called Rockcliffe, and the name describes well its positioning above Browns Bay near Cullercoats on the North East coast. In winter the windows were streaked with salt, and at break we'd huddle behind the playground walls thinking of the fishermen in peril who were a regular subject of school assembly. One of my earliest memories is playing dare with the swell as it drenched the railings on the lower cliff path.

My mother was a teacher at Rockcliffe. One evening she wrote a song using chime bars to tap out the tune. Later that night she allowed us down from our bedroom to try out the verses and the next day her class sang it in school. By coincidence the school was preparing for a radio broadcast and the producers asked if they could use the song to introduce the show.

That song is now published across the world. It's been a staple of the BBC's Songs for Schools and Come and Praise for forty years. Despite this, my mother received only a few pounds from royaltes until she learned a recording was being used by the BBC as a radio theme tune. She contacted the performing rights society, was given a substantial backdated compensation, and now receives a small, but not to be sniffed at, income from royalties.

A few weeks ago I told this story to some friends on a writing course; one of them remembered the song from her childhood. I sang it in faltering voice, the first time in years. And as I did so it was clear why this simple hymn has been so popular. It is a primary teacher's dream - the perfect musical accompaniment to a project on the seashore. But it also has that quality of drawing our attention to something we're not always aware of, and yet is vital to the experience.

Yesterday my middle son was fifteen. After giving him his presents we went for a walk from Porth Clais on the Pembrokeshire coast. The sky was streaked with plane trails, a sharpness to the air after a morning of rain, the swell on the rocks, ice white. After a mile or so we lay down in a hollow and I sat watching the tide run through the reef between us and the bird island of Carreg Fran.

We must have been there half an hour: Daniel flat out in seconds, Mike cradling his girlfriend, Dylan's imagining himself a Jedi knight and Jane snoozing in the heather. I counted boats (five), watched a cormorant steal a fish from a gull, and tried to remember when I'd last kayaked this stretch of coast. But most of all I listened to sea.

Our thoughts about the sea are tied up with the view, the horizon, our history and memory -  the taste and the smell too. So many things. But I'd defy you to experience the sea without hearing its voice; indeed the sea without sound would be a strangely dead place. Yesterday, with my family on the cliffs above Porth Clais and the wind sucking at the swell, I hummed my mother's song. As the words came back to me, the sea felt more alive than ever - and, just for a moment, so did I.


Here is the song in full.

In the morning early
I go down to the sea
And I see the mist on the shore;
I listen and I listen

When I go to the rocks
I go looking for shells
And I feel the sand beneath my feet;
I listen and I listen

When the stormy day comes
Waves crash on the cliffs
And the wind whistles through my hair;
I listen and I listen

And at night when I sleep
And the sea is calm
The gentle waves lap the shore;
I listen and I listen

I sometimes think that God
Is talking to me
When I hear the sound of the sea;
I listen and I listen


                                  Hazel Charlton

10 comments:

  1. Absolutely delightful, thanks for sharing. What an idyllic place to live. I typed "place to love" and then corrected in, but I think I might have left it.

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  2. I associate the sea with cleanliness of all things - of the emotional / spiritual kind. Whenever I feel bogged down in life and material things, a visit to the sea is a great cleanser.

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  3. I find I have to go to the sea from time to time - despite being brought up in the middle of England!

    I also find myself trying to memorise the sound of the waves crashing on the shore to bring home with me...

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  4. Mark,

    I was brought up (as you know) further down that coast. It's all visceral isn't it? When I went back there for Hilda's funeral...just looking at the sea brought back so many childhood memories.

    The sea combined with the song must mean so much to you. It's fantastic that you have that.

    Sound, touch, taste rolled into one are emotive. When certain songs were played at Hilda's funeral things 'hit' me that I had not anticipated...

    We do not play enough attention (I think) to all our senses and the effect these have on ourselves...deep down...

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  5. Your mother was very talented indeed! I love the simple verses that convey such a strong message.

    I see a harbour every day but, for all its beauty, it lacks the sound of the sea. I can never go too long without the sound of the sea and the feel of sand.

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  6. Coastal dwellers - me included - are 'salt people'. Talking of which - you should read 'Men of Salt' by Michael Benanav. Even though it is centered on a journey about as far away from coastal salt as you can get.

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  7. Where can I find the tune to this lovely song?

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    1. This song was played at my Mum's funeral because it reminded my dad of their holidays in Pembrokeshire together.

      I want to listen to it again to remind me of her, but I can't find it anywhere on the internet. Please, please help me find a version, anywhere. I'm not a christian, but listening to this song again would mean so much to me I can't really describe how much it would mean.

      Please, I hope you read this, show me where a version exists so I can listen to it one more time.

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    2. Annonymous

      I do not have a recording but I am sure that my mother has. If you contact me via viewsfromthebikeshed@googlemail.com I will try and send you details. I know that the song is published in the BBC's 'Come and Praise' hymn book (published by BBC active) , which I think is available with a CD option

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