Adisham Water Tower
Literary heritage
"It had, in fact, an extraordinary capacity for thus suddenly disappearing and reappearing; from miles away, on the other side of the valley, it could be seen, at one moment, shining out clearly above the woodland; and a few seconds later, it would have entirely vanished, masked suddenly by an intervening tree, or by some higher reach of Barham Downs."
Jocelyn Brooke, The Orchid Trilogy, page 159-160 (King Penguin edition, 1981)
In the same book, Brooke describes the Water Tower's early appearance in detail:
Throughout A Mine of Serpents, Brooke recalls a series of memories and impressions of the Water Tower from different stages of his life and varying vantage points, which take on metaphorical significance.
As a child, Brooke's affection for the structure was "tempered by a certain awe, a sense of some unknown potency residing within that august form," (p. 161) which he compares to his feelings for his father. Brooke also remembers the sight of 'miners' who "clambered up the zig-zag iron ladder" and "clung like monkeys to the railing round the tank; some had mounted to the gallery itself" (p. 184)
In adulthood, Brooke describes seeing the Water Tower above distant woods from Three Barrows Down near Woolage Village: "Remote, mysterious, it flashed its sudden signal across the sunburned fields: but the message was one which I had never been, perhaps never should be, able to decode..." (p. 259).
After World War II, when the tower's tank had been painted black, Brooke recalls the view from Barham Downs: "the paint was beginning to wear off, and hadn't been renewed: the tank showed dimly above the wood, a smudge of whitish grey - a burnt-out firework..." (p. 297).
In the final passage of A Mine of Serpents, the reader is left with a view of The Watertower from Bekesbourne train station:
"I looked across at the line of woods on the horizon, and gave a sudden start of surprised recognition: there, protruding naked from the dark mass of trees, gleaming with a tarnished whiteness against the grey sky, was the watertower. I had scarcely ever seen it, before, from this aspect: I was on the 'wrong' side of it, beyond the frontier-line of the woods. Over there, on the other side, was familiar country; mute, non-committal, the tower stood between two worlds, guarding the frontier: its white cap poised, like a silent, hovering bird, between the future and the past." (p. 303)