For a few days I have swapped my normal staid, land-locked location for the liminal, changeful one of the coast. It's a bit of a nostalgic journey - I came here for holidays when I was small and some of my happiest childhood summer memories are tied up here. The British coast is both uncompromising and incredibly accommodating. The sea is seriously cold - I cannot believe I ever regularly swam as a child in these chilly waters, but I did - every year, without fail! And you have to be careful even if just paddling, as the undertow is fierce, even quite close to the shore and not to be messed with.
But the shore is as engaging and welcoming to me in my forties as ever it was when I was four or five and the same things that delighted me then, still do.
There is something rather wonderful and timeless in that. Staying in a three-hundred year-old thatched cottage emphasises the timelessness - even the beams in the rather low ceilings are made out of wood rescued from long ago wrecks off the coast.
Apologies in advance for the humble nature of these snaps. My son has taken far better ones at every turn (just for a change!) but for me they encapsulate a lot of what is still timeless and delightful and simple in an ever-complicating, ever-complicated world. I feel a real need to reconnect with some of that.
A couple of examples of H's rather better efforts (with his permission but only just without having to make payment - no one more open to commercial opportunity than teenagers!)