1953 - RESCUE FROM SEAWICK
	On Saturday, 31st January 1953, I had a severe cold or flu and went to bed early in our bungalow at Seawick Road in St Osyth Marshes on a stormy night. About midnight, I was woken by Mother, who had heard a strange roaring sound. I slipped on my clothes and looked out. Water was rushing through the garden and I realised that the sea had managed to flood into the marshes again. We did have minor experiences in 1938 at Marsh Cottage and in 1949 at Seawick when these marshes were slightly flooded by tidal surges caused by storms. The water levelled off and fell and, not expecting it to become much worse, I waded out into the garden and gathered chickens in sacks from a coop and brought them indoors into the bungalow to be higher and safer. (Unfortunately, these were drowned later when the water deepened). The water level then began to rise rapidly and despite the high floor levels began to enter the rooms. There was obviously no hope of leaving and making the long way to higher ground and the only hope was to go up into the loft. The loft hatch, which was in the kitchen, was only just wide enough to go through and we moved a table under it and Mother with help managed to clamber through onto the joists above the ceilings. By that time I had got wet almost to the waist through wading in the water. We had several cats that luckily always spent the night safely indoors. I gathered them, put them up into the loft and followed them through the hatch. Soon after going up, Mother slipped off the joists and put a foot through the ceiling. As this had been newly decorated, she said “Oh! My poor ceiling!” - although already glass was beginning to shatter in the glazed doors and furniture was starting to move around below in the swirling water! The loft was windowless with no means of escape but I was able to find a large piece of timber that we had stored in there. With this I managed to batter a hole through one of the metal lath and plaster gable ends as an escape route and to see what was happening. Almost as soon as this was done, we were shocked to see a small haystack floating by, getting briefly halted as it went between the bungalow next door and us in the brilliant moonlight. More worrying still was when a complete bungalow built similarly to ours slowly drifted away after being lifted off its foundations. At the highest point, the flood level almost reached the top of the doors. The furniture, especially a piano, bumped and crashed against the walls and window frames, smashing glass and shaking the joists. We were relieved when the water levels stopped rising and even began to drop a little. It was a long night. When daylight came, it was obvious the water was far to deep for escape and we began to worry about the next high tide due soon after midday. Not realising the scale of the event, we reassured ourselves that help would soon be officially organised and on its way to us. Occasionally I would call out several times in the hope of being heard. It was strange seeing tufted ducks swimming over the next door garden and we felt sorry for a doomed adder which floated by on a piece of wood after being flooded out of its hibernation place. It was almost time for the next tide when we thought that we heard voices and called out in response. We heard an answer and oars.

Soon a sturdy boat and even the familiar faces of Foster Jacobs and Syd Bruce among the crew came into view. Our legs were cold and numb but we were carefully helped down from our escape hole. The heavily laden boat was hard for the crew to row to high ground against the wind and hampered by the barbed wire fencing of the grazing marsh.

Eventually, and very grateful to the local team who had organised our rescue, we made landfall on the road beyond Marsh Cottage below Whyers Hall. We were taken speedily to Whyers Hall where welcome food and dry clothing were arranged for us and we were allowed to stay in warmth and comfort for several days while we recovered and planned for the future. Learning of the horrific loss of life nearby and elsewhere in England and in the Netherlands, we became even more conscious how lucky we were to be alive. Even our cats survived, although it was a few days before it was possible to return on foot to several that we had to leave in the loft. After that, we were able to move into a caravan stored for the winter nearby. We received help from local and national sources but it was many weeks before basic repairs could be carried out to the bungalow so that we could return. Very few of our belongings had been salvageable due to saltwater and other damage - mud, marshland vegetation and other debris had coated and penetrated almost everything. Many irreplaceable items of family history were ruined, including photographs and notebooks. I had been working for Arthur Ling at Seawick Garage which was closed as a result of the flood damage but I went to work for many weeks on seawall repairs as a mats-man, etc for drag-Iine excavators. Reg Arthur Editors Note: All together 113 people died in Essex, including 37 in Jaywick and the Crosswells in Point Clear Bay.