My life as a mudlark: Finding the sacred in the River Thames

Mudlarking came to me at a challenging time in my life. In 2018, I was unwell and had to have major surgery. While recovering, I read Ted Sandling's beautiful book, London in Fragments, getting lost in the stories of the historic fragments he found on the foreshore. I became fixated on finding an early 17th-century clay pipe featured in its pages.

When I was well enough, my daughter Miriam and I made the journey from Brighton to London. Miraculously, we found not one but two pipes, exactly like the ones I coveted. It was the most magical moment. Since then, my mudlarking permit from the Port of London Authority has been one of my most prized possessions.

At first, I didn't understand how the tides worked. I wasted time by only arriving at the lowest point, having a short time there, and then leaving again. I would spend about 4 hours travelling, for just 90 minutes on the foreshore. I didn't know there were train stations closer to where I wanted to search, so I would come in to Victoria Station and catch a bus across London.

One day I met the lovely, lifelong mudlark Florrie Evans. She showed me how to find pins, which meant getting down really low instead of just walking and bending. When you're nose-to-nose with the surface, it looks completely different. I started finding metal objects, and it opened up a whole new world.

I wear knee pads and crawl on the ground. It’s not elegant, but I’m able to see small objects if they’re there. After a while, I learned to read the foreshore – to see where the mud was soft and darker, which told me things might be coming up. It’s a magical process.

My collection is not vast, but it’s a special one. I love finding coins. And particularly love sacred objects, many of which have been “offered” to the river, rather than accidentally lost.

I'm not religious per se, but I would almost say that my favourite spot by the river is like my church. It feels like a sacred space where ancient objects emerge from the mud of a river that has flowed for millennia. When life has been challenging, I’ve often thought about the river and looked forward to my next visit.

The Thames has blessed me with precious objects, many connected to past people’s sacred beliefs, hopes and fears. It’s a profound privilege that I get to hold and care for them after so many hundreds of years in the river.

I carry my tide books with me constantly. They're all over my house – I’ve got four on the go. My children find it hilarious, but checking the tide tables has become an essential part of my life. Before making any appointments, I consult my tide book. I've even cancelled appointments because a very low tide was predicted for that day.

When I began, I’d go every week, often several times. These days I go as often as life permits me to.

The night before a visit, I prepare my bag and plan my journey meticulously. Every visit is like a pilgrimage. The foreshore is a unique environment that feels ancient, a place where I can focus entirely on the present moment, looking for signs of the past.

My favourite find ever is a lead alloy pilgrim badge of Thomas Becket riding a horse. It's from the 13th or 14th century and marks Thomas Becket’s return from France after six years in exile. It was one of my earliest finds and had once been a large, beautifully made, expensive badge.

When I looked closely, I realised someone had scratched stars on the leg and their initial "A" on the back. This medieval owner had personalised their badge because it had meant so much to them. Since it was clearly part of a larger piece, I searched the same spot every week for more of it.

Remarkably, three years later, I found his body in the same location. Two puzzle pieces discovered over three years. It was a miracle of sorts.

My friends and I immediately took the badge over the river to Southwark Cathedral, where Becket had given his final sermon days before he was murdered in Canterbury in 1170. It felt right that the badge should be back where Becket had been himself, over 800 years before.

But undeniably my most famous find is a memento mori rosary bead found in 2021. I was on my knees in a small patch with two friends when I spotted a skull looking up at me. When we turned it over, we saw a beautiful woman's face on the other side.

When I showed the bead to the artist Billie Bond, she began to develop the idea for her wonderful project of sculptures, exploring the relationship of mudlarks with their finds. Her project poses the question of who was finding whom. Did the bead find me, or did I find her?

Historian Geoffrey Munn identified her from my social media account as a rare, late medieval, terminal rosary bead from 1450–1550. This find has become something of a national treasure.

In 2022, it was featured on the cover of the Portable Antiquities Scheme report. There was a reception to mark its publication at the British Museum, where I met its director and spoke to journalists. I was later interviewed for The One Show (BBC) on the foreshore. It was a wonderful and very moving experience at the museum, especially as I have precious memories of visiting the British Museum with my father as a child.

Mudlarking has changed my life. It started as a solitary pursuit where I would often see no one, but I now feel part of a fascinating community. People whose paths would never have crossed mine have become valued friends. I've learned so much about our history, mainly by handling and researching the objects that I’ve found and learning from other mudlarks.

The objects I find aren't just artefacts – I perceive them as the possessions of people who've gone before. I see myself as their custodian rather than the owner.

I always feel anticipation when I lark, even though I often come away with no finds. The foreshore feels like a home away from home. Being a mudlark has enriched my life quite profoundly and being part of this exhibition is a joy.

The river continues flowing as it always has, twice a day revealing its wonderful, dark mud which sometimes exposes ancient objects for those lucky enough to spot them. It is a tremendous privilege to be one of those people.

Edited excerpts from an interview with Shruti Chakraborty (Digital Editor, Content, at London Museum). Caroline Nunneley is a London mudlark and worked in Special Educational Needs education. Several objects found by her will be on display at Secrets of the Thames.

Please note that you must have a permit from the PLA to go mudlarking on the Thames foreshore.