Notes from a (Very) Small Island - Part Six
Created | Updated Nov 15, 2007
Your note-writer, Paff, works on the Channel Island of Jersey, but lives in Devon, England. He spends most of his working week looking at the inside of the airport, the inside of a cab, the inside of an office or the inside of his eyelids. He must try to get out more. When he does get out, these notes are the result.
On The Waterfront
If things don't change.
The St Helier Waterfront is new. Like CDs are new, or mobile phones are new. There is a generation of kids that doesn't know any different, and there are older generations who remember when there was no Waterfront, when there was no underpass, no multiplex cinema, no KFC, no gym, no apartments, no hotel. Ahh, those were the days1 — when the view from the wall along the Esplanade was the English Channel and Elizabeth Castle. OK, so the western end of the Esplanade still runs along the sea, but the eastern end is positively inland. Here, where the other side of the sea wall used to be... erm... the sea, there is now a car park.
If things don't change, they'll stay as they are.
You may remember that in a previous instalment I took a walk along the Waterfront and said this: 'Up ahead is a bronze tree ... We'll take a look at that another time.' Well, since then, I've been meaning to take a better look around the Waterfront, and it's about time I had a closer look at that bronze tree. So tonight I'll be taking a wander around this bit of Jersey that has been reclaimed from the sea.
On The Waterfront
At the western end of the Esplanade you are beside the seaside, beside the sea. Walkers, joggers and cyclists are out along here, getting fit, getting some fresh air, or just getting home. The path along the sea front curves seamlessly away from the 'old' Esplanade onto the 'new' Waterfront.
Follow the path alongside the Waterfront, approaching the marina. Up ahead is that bronze tree.
Yes, a tree, made of bronze.
The Liberation Tree. A modern reminder of the past, commemorating the 60th anniversary of the liberation of the Channel Islands from occupation. It seems a bit out of place here. When it was put here this might have been the perfect place, but there's a building site adjacent that we've been turning a blind eye to up until now. Profit-hungry property developers have done themselves proud and are building a huge, great, four-storey four-star hotel right up against the bay, spoiling the view for most of St Helier, it has to be said. The Liberation Tree is 'planted' just yards away.
In another 60 years will a new clowder of fat cats be liberating Jersey from the scourge of the developers' occupation?
Around the back (or is it the front?) of the half-finished hotel is the new marina, and around the back of there is a very modern apartment block. Almost office-block in style. Floor-to-ceiling glass. One of these enormous glass windows turns out to be a door and it slides aside. From within comes the urgent squawk of a smoke alarm. The occupant has now presumably rushed back in to grab a chair to stand on and will be by now frantically poking at a white plastic button on a white plastic panel trying to read the white plastic writing on a white plastic background that more than likely says 'press and hold to cancel'. The alarm continues to beep. By now the occupant will be just pulling the front off and grabbing at the 9 volt battery... Silence.
In the distance, another harsh sound. Clatter-clatter-clatter... crash-clatter-clatter-clatter. Walking towards the Waterfront Centre proper, the noise continues and becomes louder. Clatter-clatter-clatter... crash-clatter-clatter-clatter. To the right is a large square expanse of grass — like a bowling green, but without the silver-haired senior citizens wearing whites. The lawn is bordered by a large expanse of paving. Teenage kids are skateboarding. Clatter-clatter-clatter across the paving slabs, flick of the heel, scrape of board on ground, a moment of airborne silence... crash, clatter-clatter-clatter. Whoops of approval from friends.
In another 60 years will these same kids be silver-haired senior citizens wishing the lawn were a bowling green?
Continue towards the Waterfront Centre. Concrete, glass, and steel. Cinema, bars, and fast-food. This is all so 21st-century. Across a white-paved area, between white concrete walls, through a huge opening in a blue concrete wall. Around the front (or is this the back?) there is more floor-to-ceiling glass. Behind the glass, joggers and cyclists are pounding along on matt black machines, wearing grey cotton, sporting shiny white iPods. Running and cycling, but getting nowhere, breathing air-conditioned air, looking out over the underpass. A few hundred yards away the real joggers and real cyclists are breathing fresh air and looking out over St Aubin's Bay — and not paying a membership fee either.
The two storey glass frontage ends and more white concrete begins. A forty-, maybe fifty-foot-high wall of white concrete blocks with 'The Waterfront Centre' written large in blue serif characters2 high up, as if some giant architect has forgotten to take the label off. The effect from a distance is that of a smooth white plastic box. Maybe somewhere up on the top is a giant white plastic button with white plastic writing on a white plastic background saying 'press and hold to cancel'. Wonder where the 9 volt battery goes.
On from here is the residential area (those profit-hungry property developers have covered all the bases). More white and blue concrete, some more glass, some more steel. Two apartment developments with a wide passageway between. Victoria Place one side, Albert Place the other. The sounds of family apartment living echo off the walls; the clink of cutlery and crockery being washed-up by a kitchen window on the third floor, the continued clatter-clatter-clatter of more skateboarding, the thud of boot against football then football against wall, the holler of a mother calling kids in for tea.
The passageway opens out onto what was once Albert Pier. Once upon a time Queen Victoria landed at the old quay and rode along here in a horse drawn carriage. Today, the horses would struggle getting past, as a huge great conical slate needle has been erected.
Yes, a needle, made of slate.
The Jubilee Needle. Another modern reminder of the past, commemorating the Golden Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II. Growing out of the ground like a giant stalagmite. Seems as out of place here as the bronze Liberation Tree on the other side of the Waterfront.
In another 60 years will the Jubilee Needle still be standing, and will the apartments still be a hive of activity?
It's here that the 'new' Waterfront ends abruptly and the 'old' harbour area begins again.
If things don't change, they'll stay as they are.
Notes from a (Very) Small Island Archive
