Nature Diary: Funeral Tea on Bangor Pier

Bangor Pier, Gwynedd: Mam rolls up a blue cotton blanket and tucks it under her arm, slings a tote bag full of funeral food over her shoulder, and closes the boot of the car.

Bangor Pier, North Wales

The thumping of our walking shoes vibrates through the slippery wooden panels of the pier, diminishing my trust in council maintenance. I notice a memorial plaque to the left of the entrance gate, with hundreds of names, and the first half of the pier has side by side memorial benches on either side. It feels like I’m walking through a cemetery on exhibition - Western grief is usually kept in the back of churches, but here it feels like an accepted pane between the living and the dead, merging joy and commemoration. I’m on Bangor Pier, and in the middle of the Menai Strait - tidal water that separates Anglesey from the mainland. The crossing between both counties is so short that I feel like I can almost touch the other side. Beneath my feet I hear a loud rumble of coos, where pigeons have perched themselves on the beams underfoot, occasionally appearing at the chance of some scraps. We sit on a bench and wrap the blue cotton blanket around us. Mam reaches into her bag and takes out tupperware filled with funeral leftovers: cheese and pickle sandwiches, egg and cress, various quiches, and slices of chocolate cake wrapped in kitchen roll.

The winter sun lies low on the skyline. I close my eyes. Seagulls scream, oblivious to the pigeons, and my mother tongue comes in and out of earshot as clusters of people come and go. My ears indulge in the soft lapping of waves, and I turn my back to the sun to face the shallow water below. The sky is so much louder here compared to Manchester. Lifting my gaze I spot the harbour of boats, and the mountains behind them. This landscape must be on the social media of so many visitors. Penrhyn castle pokes out of some trees and we debate heading there next.

I pinch some more sandwiches as Mam starts to pack away the food, eating them as we walk. To avoid the sun’s glare, I walk watching my feet and notice all the sections of the pier that have been patched up or replaced. I retract my initial thought: people have put in the effort to preserve this pier. The collage of old and new wooden panels reflect the business of this chosen spot, and echo the feet of the past and the present at once. Though I don’t understand why someone would want a bench in such a popular location, it's clear that all these generations of people play a part in the history and preservation of Bangor Pier, and for that, I’m grateful.