12th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A steady drizzly rain from an homogenous grey sky. The drops are driven hard by a steady cold wind. The sea is agitated and rushes backwards and forwards up and down the beach. The paths are empty. The only living creatures are two wagtails going about their usual business. The trees loom out of the mist and drip water onto the passer-by.
From 12th January 2022
The pre-dawn light is crystal clear and indescribably beautiful. The lights further along the curving cliffs to east and west are diamond sharp. A playful wind pinches your cheeks to make sure youaare fully awake. Although they are deep in darkshadows, the trees and bushes are filled with the chorusing of blackbirds, robins, wrens and every other bird of the clifftop. The voices of the gulls echo off the still sleeping flats and hotels. The sea is as purple as an emperor's cloak edged with silver and thrown carelessly across the bay. A band of charcoal grey lines the horizon and above that, the sky is filled with a glorious succession of colours: Orange, pink, primrose, green before they fade into the deeper blue of the sky above. Thin wisps and ostrich feathers of cloud edged with pink decorate this extravagance.
From12th January 2021
One day folds into another. The grey mizzle fringes the view and clouds shuffle grumpily across the sky. It is almost impossible to tell Tuesday from Thursday. A swimmer stands waist deep in the surf. His wet trunks cling to his legs and his white torso stands out in odd contrast to the leaden water. Tuesday or Thursday. He appears quite unconcerned. The air is not so icy as it has been and robins are well into their spring tuning.
