I am Ravenspurn: once of importance but now eroded away to nothingness. I am having so much of myself lasered away that soon I will be hollowed out, delicate as a blown robin's egg.
The looming sensation of dread at the resumption of healthcare indignities various is something I am trying to fend off - I imagine it like a shadow falling over life, a blocking of the sun. And I'm not the only one, of course not. All of us are beginning to crumble, one way and another. Our Achilles Heels are showing themselves.
Parts of the coast are falling away, but East Yorkshire will still be East Yorkshire even if Spurn Point becomes Spurn Island in the end. Ravenspurn that town of old is now reinvented as an oilfield. So I suppose even with parts of us cut out - cervixes, knees, gallstones, breast lumps, lengths of intestine, whatever - we're still who we are.
Whoever we are. Whoever I am.
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