17th April from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

The sound of the arborists cutting down a dying tree can be heard in the distance. The chain saws are like an old man complaining loudly abut the litter or the state of the economy. The sky is a rumpled grey but there is a warmth that comes from the general direction of the sun. The first real indication of spring is the life guard lookouts on the beach. They have been there, unstaffed as yet for a week or two, but now the definitive beginning of the summer season (if not the summer) comes with the work boat laying out the neat row of yellow buoys that delineate the safe swimming zone off the beach. An empty can snoozes under a bush. The ancient dead holm oak still frames the view and one of the access paths is closed for drainage work. A magpie appears to have hiccoughs as it walks around under the trees and pigeons coo.

From 17th April 2022

Easter day is bright and clear and warm enough to sit outside for coffee. But by the afternoon, a mily sky and a nippy little wind takes the warmth away. But people are still willing to enjoy the day and there are plenty of bare shoulders and knees on the West Cliff. Picnic blankets are spread and groups of visitors are enjoying the saound of the sea as it rolls neatly over at the tide's edge below. A woman in a brick red puffer jacket leans on the rail and meditates on the bay below. A pigeon claps its wings and startled she moves onwards into the afternoon. Clumps of tiny pink flowered cranesbill line the paths and a wren sings clear and boldly. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #april #spring

From 17th April 2019

I've dug out the winter coat again. A bone chill mist rolls in from the bay. Ships' sirens slice through from the harbour. People react to the weather in different ways. Some turn their coat collars up and hurry home. Others saunter in the spring air. They are on holiday and a bit of fog is not going to spoil their week at the seaside.The birds get on with what they are meant to be doing unperturbed. The man with the shopping trolley emerges from the gloom. "Feeding the gulls?" I say. "No, the crows." They seem to be his special friends. We walk along the path side by side but not speaking.

From 17th April 2013

The sound of the sea changes. Sometimes it is the slight susurration on the shingle at others,as tonight, it is a restless roar that pulls ones imagination down the 123 steps and across the firm sands to the very waters' edge. And wading on out into the sea of dreams.