Imogen Lycett Green on Ancient Sussex #10 - The River Ouse
Detail of Lewes Town and Marshes from Southease by alej ez
In the summer I swam up and down a long, straight stretch of the Ouse below Lindfield bridge, silky, silty brown water flowing along my body. Promising myself I’d swim ten lengths, I nearly baulked at nine in the cold water, but on that tenth length, a kingfisher darted quicksilver over my head, and alighted on a low-slung branch of a catalpa tree, just there, next to me. We were, for as long as twenty, thirty, forty seconds (I held my breath), in communion. His black moist eye, his iridescent blue back and copper breast, the long bill, the stout little charm of the bird. He is so beautiful and perfect I can hardly look at him. Until this time, I’d only ever seen the flash of blue once or twice a year, from afar, like a fleeting spell. Now he stays. As if to commend my swimming. He actually cocks his head. This is magic. I want to say, I’m sorry we’ve hurt you, I’m sorr...