Love the beach.
LOVE the beach.
But why? Gritty sand between the toes
Sun too hot. Sea too cold.
Children smothered in sun-cream and sand. Gritty and slidey.
Me trailing behind them, usually with an enormous bag crammed with things they wanted to bring
But don’t want to carry. Towels. Clothes. A rock someone found pretty when they first arrived.
The plastic containers that once contained a picnic.
More suncream.
Sandy knickers.
A reading book – which I won’t get to read because I’m too scared that my kids might accidentally try drowning.
They just went over there for a paddle, Mummy.
I can see that they’re having a great time.
But you can tell they’ve already forgotten they’ve got clothes on.
They’re almost waist deep.
In a minute I’ll have to pick my way over the rocks to remind them.
Still: love the beach. The bits I like:
The way the sand ‘gives’ just the right amount when I put my feet down.
The seagulls screeching, fighting and begging
Each with the self-confidence of a human who’s on their fourth pint.
Love the people. The different ways strangers can tackle an ice-cream.
The shared purpose of the characters from all walks of life who converged here
Pretending it was the kids’ idea to collectively build a sandcastle.
Love the beach.
Love swimming in the sea.
About the only stylish thing about me these days is how I can walk towards the sea and keep walking.
Past the mother gripping the toddler in the sunhat slightly too tightly
Past the larger kiddy jumping over the waves.
Past the woman holding her breasts at waist-depth
Coming up with all sorts of shrill ways to describe the coldness
Leaving me feeling Smug.
Whatever it says on my gravestone
Got everything wrong, was rude to the kids
Brought her gender or her brain injury into everything
Joined strangers conversations too willingly
Despite all that let it at least say
‘Could walk into cold water without too much mucking about.’
Love the beach.
Love walking back along the front when they tide’s up
Past lots of identical benches dedicated to people who’ve died
Telling us absolutely nothing except their names and dates
I wonder how they would have behaved had they been here now?
Love wondering about them.
As the children giggle and run and the sun sinks that bit lower in the sky
Love looking out at where that half mile long strip of sand used to be
Marveling that it has now disappeared beneath a film of sparkling water.
My Body, My Own 