The soul of Newlyn must not be closed to its people
Newlyn, my adopted home, is the biggest fishing port in Cornwall and a place of both life and myth. It clings to its industrial reality, as its neighbour, Mousehole, is a shadow of its former self, made for tourists.
There are many stories about Newlyn. It is said the Mayflower stopped here for the last time on her journey to America to collect drinking water; the medieval pier, where the Mayflower would have stopped, sits in the mud, noble but ignored, as the modern port grows around it.
An artists’ colony was established in the 19th century, to paint the fishermen and their wives. Newlyn is doughty but romantic. It is special, and diktats from bureaucrats do not sit well here. Now, the harbour commissioners plan to close the piers to the locals, in whose interests the port is run, citing, of course, health and safety. So, the lovely evening walks on the North Quay and the Mary Williams pier will stop.
There is talk of a permit system, so local children, who learn to fish off the back of the pier – they are rich waters due to the Gulf Stream – may, if indulged enough, be invited to queue for permits at the harbour office. There will be a queue of artists and local children and people interested in the fishing industry pleading for access to Newlyn’s soul, when it is theirs anyway.
The harbour is the soul of Newlyn, and it always has been. It belongs to the people. It is – and I hope the vicar will forgive me – their original church. It should not be closed to them on spurious grounds.