Down by the Lost River Effra

Kennington's Gorgeous Bats

It's been a glorious week in London, just as late spring 'should' be. By contrast, there are ghastly things looming large in the world, and a fair percentage rock up in my courtroom. The  lunch break is my sanity check, and I  head to Kennington Park bearing salad box and writer's notebook. Stress  falls away - thank the Lord for riotous flower beds, sculpted lawns and centuries-old London Plane trees.

The Sculpted Lawns and Ancient Trees
Photo by Jennifer Pittam

Kennington Park  was common land for hundreds of years. It's first recorded officially in the 1600s. There were village settlements, semi-wild forest and the River Effra, a proud Celtic tributary of the River Thames. The first Queen Elizabeth sailed her barge down the River Effra to Sir Walter Raleigh's Brixton home, but now, like both of them, the River Effra's six feet under the ground.

The Lost River Effra

I wonder whether Sarah Elston walked on the banks of the River Effra. Sarah was the last poor woman to be burned at the stake, in England.  She had murdered her husband and they consigned her to the flames, here in my beautiful park, charged with witchcraft and treason. History does not record what the husband had done to provoke her, but whatever it was, they wouldn't have burned him for it, of that we can be sure.

Sarah Elston's Memorial Garden
Photo by Jennifer Pittam

I'm lucky to live in the 21st century - albeit in a country where I won't be pilloried or burned at the stake, where my body is my own and my choice of religion likewise. I work on my novel, drafting a few plot points before I have to return to the world of witnesses, legal bundles and oath statements.  Very often I'm joined by a chittering squirrel or, in late afternoon, a family of bats who circle me with eery accuracy and total silence before returning to their roost. Perhaps they too are haunted by London's Lost River Effra.

When the wind blows

The quiet things speak

Some whisper, some clang 

Some squeak.

When the wind goes - 

suddenly

then,

the quiet things 

are quiet again.

Lilian Moore 1909 - 2004

Jennifer Pittam has been published in: Aquarist & Pondkeeper, Astrology Monthly, Cosmopolitan,  Ether Books, People's Friend, Prediction Magazine, Romany Routes, The Lady. 

Competitions won: Coast to Coast Short Story Competition, 2nd Prize; Writers' Village Flash Fiction Competition, 1st Prize.

The Closing Ceremony

So we've reached the end of the Olympic Games, and I'm sitting in Spitalfields Market to watch the closing ceremony. We've all been affected by having the Games in dear old London. For one thing, 70,000 of us have been volunteers, people of all ages and backgrounds who gave freely, cheerfully and with great common sense (that least common of gifts).

 I've been enchanted by the 'ribbon of gold' wild flower park, which snakes through the Lee Valley, where I was born. We hope it will leave a lasting legacy. Time will tell whether the Olympic Stadium will do for the East End what Docklands did for the Port of London, i.e. push out the local people and replace them with Merchant Bankers. Please the Good Lord that in ten years' time the East End of London hasn't reverted to some sort of graveyard for the Olympic legacy that never was.

The secret behind the Games was the preparation - I couldn't help noticing. It applied to the organisers, the volunteers, the children who didn't even tell their parents their great secret - that they, not a famous sports celebrity, were going to light the cauldron in the stadium, and most of all the athletes.

So anyway now I'm looking at a synopsis for my W.I.P. Time was when I used to bash out the synopsis after I'd finished a story. Now I'm going to have a go at preparing it before I've started.

A good synopsis should mimic the novel's tone, according to Sarah Domet (90 Days To Your Novel). For example if the novel is fast-paced and exciting, the synopsis should be the same. If the novel is full of mystery, yes, the synopsis should be too.  I've gathered that you must not leave out major plot points, and especially, the resolution.  Pay attention to detail, hone, edit and re-edit. Don't stop, not until that finished story's in your hand and it's really, really time to go home. And right now, it's really, really time to go home. I close the notebook and head for the station.