Canals aren’t built—they’re tamed. Once, they were wild rivers, savage and free.

And every river has a spirit, a goddess of its deep waters. The Romans called her Brigantia. But the Celtish folk, who knew her best, used other names, now long forgotten.

Over centuries, even Brigantia’s name eroded, whispered away… Briginda… Brida… Brid. Today, she’s called Bridgit, and she still stumbles along the towpath, though few speak with her now.

Would you dare pray to a goddess whose wild river was chained? Or would you cast your eyes down as you passed her by?