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DanaC · 07-24-2008, 12:45 PM

Most of the time my late night thoughts are fairly shallow. From time to time my thoughts become a little more troubling. Usually this is when going into or coming out of a bout of depression. This has become a lot less of a factor since Dad went into warden controlled accomodation. No need to lie awake wondering at what point I'll get a phone call to tell me he's been found, dead a week.

Funny thing. When I first joined the Cellar those more troubling nights were so much more a part of my life. I posted a prose-poem about it in here (4am Vigil and the Depressed Mind). I had forgotten how many of my nights were spent like that back then. Guess I am happier nowadays.

Here's a thought from last night. Deep or not, I cannot say. Doggerland.

What's Doggerland? I hear you ask. So I'll answer that with a question: how long has Britain been little? How long has this little island, been an island?

Not a long time. Not even in human terms. A mere eight thousand years. Doggerland was a stretch of fertile grasslands cut across with a vast river and tributary system. The tip of that land ended in a rough and rocky point. Twelve thousand years ago the White Cliffs of Dover looked out not onto the sea, but onto an ocean of waving grasses. The people who inhabited Denmark left their traces, as did those who lived along what re now the coastal waters of Britain. Their traces show a similar culture, their craftwork identical. Across three or four thousand years my Island was born. The final land connection lost eight thousand years ago. Towards the end, the loss of land would have been visible to those living along the ever encroaching coastline. A metre a day, or thereabouts. Those people on this side of that new sea were pushed further into what was becoming an Island. Within a very short time, the artefacts they left had diverged sharply from those being left on the mainland. No longer a shared culture.

Eight thousand years ago people hunted and gathered and lived in an area of land equivalent in size to a modern European nation, now wholly lost to the world. Doggerland.

That was what was occupying my mind last night. And the couple of nights prior to that. Saw a documentary about the current attempts to conduct archaelogical studies under water.

What also blew my mind was the fact that 6 thousand years before Doggerland was lost it was under water and ice. It was only above water as usable land for about six or seven thousand years. A small time in terms of land climate change, but vast to a culture with no written record to sustain knowledge. The idea that Britain could cease to be an island and then become one again across such a short time, and that this short time could feel like forever to the humans who exist through it made geography of my world seem suddenly very fluid, not fixed at all.

Doggerland. If I had a time machine, that's where and when I would go.

07-24-2008, 12:45 PM	#47
DanaC We have to go back, Kate! Join Date: Apr 2004 Location: Yorkshire Posts: 25,964	Most of the time my late night thoughts are fairly shallow. From time to time my thoughts become a little more troubling. Usually this is when going into or coming out of a bout of depression. This has become a lot less of a factor since Dad went into warden controlled accomodation. No need to lie awake wondering at what point I'll get a phone call to tell me he's been found, dead a week. Funny thing. When I first joined the Cellar those more troubling nights were so much more a part of my life. I posted a prose-poem about it in here (4am Vigil and the Depressed Mind). I had forgotten how many of my nights were spent like that back then. Guess I am happier nowadays. Here's a thought from last night. Deep or not, I cannot say. Doggerland. What's Doggerland? I hear you ask. So I'll answer that with a question: how long has Britain been little? How long has this little island, been an island? Not a long time. Not even in human terms. A mere eight thousand years. Doggerland was a stretch of fertile grasslands cut across with a vast river and tributary system. The tip of that land ended in a rough and rocky point. Twelve thousand years ago the White Cliffs of Dover looked out not onto the sea, but onto an ocean of waving grasses. The people who inhabited Denmark left their traces, as did those who lived along what re now the coastal waters of Britain. Their traces show a similar culture, their craftwork identical. Across three or four thousand years my Island was born. The final land connection lost eight thousand years ago. Towards the end, the loss of land would have been visible to those living along the ever encroaching coastline. A metre a day, or thereabouts. Those people on this side of that new sea were pushed further into what was becoming an Island. Within a very short time, the artefacts they left had diverged sharply from those being left on the mainland. No longer a shared culture. Eight thousand years ago people hunted and gathered and lived in an area of land equivalent in size to a modern European nation, now wholly lost to the world. Doggerland. That was what was occupying my mind last night. And the couple of nights prior to that. Saw a documentary about the current attempts to conduct archaelogical studies under water. What also blew my mind was the fact that 6 thousand years before Doggerland was lost it was under water and ice. It was only above water as usable land for about six or seven thousand years. A small time in terms of land climate change, but vast to a culture with no written record to sustain knowledge. The idea that Britain could cease to be an island and then become one again across such a short time, and that this short time could feel like forever to the humans who exist through it made geography of my world seem suddenly very fluid, not fixed at all. Doggerland. If I had a time machine, that's where and when I would go.