Beside the Bawleys
Given time, one can prepare oneself gradually for the full splendours of Southend. After Had- leigh Castle there is Leigh: the demurely spread- ing dormitory above, the fishing village by the creek below. Here are clapboard houses, shell- fish booths beside the bawleys' anchorage, several good pubs, and for the moment no fur- ther concessions to those eager to spend their savings—unless they want to buy an old boat or to commission a new one from Johnson and Sago, the yacht-builders. Old Leigh has a strong air, to be snuffed as you drink your beer, watch the flood swirling up the creek and covering the drifts of cockleshells, and look over the miles of estuary to the flame burning endlessly above the oil refinery near the mouth of the Medway.
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