11th December from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The frost deepens. Its icy grip tightens on the West Cliff. Patches of rime have not melted for three days and from a distance seem like drifts of snow. And then a nasty, icy, sleety rain begins and very soon the paths are treacherous. Families out for a Sunday morning walk are soon clinging to each other and sheltering under big black umbrellas. Magpies and gulls wander about looking sorry for themselves while a crow commands operations hoarsley from his lamp post vantage point. Later still, a bank of icy fog to the west of the bay begins to creep along the shore until the view of the hills disappear from view.
From 11th December 2021
Damp, dark, drizzly, dreary, dismal. The surf rushes back and forth as it has done for millennia. As it will do for the next thousand years. #Bournemouth #westcliff #winter #december
From 11th December 2012
A thick, deep frost has settled over everything. Creating a crystal crust that covers cars, grass and gorse. The night is quiet
From 11th December 2011
The sea is an extraordinary dark steel, almost violet stretching away to a pale dove horizon. Lumpy black clouds jostle overhead. As a I turn the sharp breeze throws a handful of cold raindrops in my face. By the time I have reached the clifftop the wind has picked up and there is a steady drizzle. Holm-oaks bend and rattle. Flurries of gulls hang indecisively overhead. Time for breakfast.
