19th December from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The trees are being thrashed about as by a particularly vicious school bully. The green waves throw themselves onto the sand in a raucus rough ruck. The crows stand along the rails viewing proceedings with jaundiced eye as though they were Senior masters standing on the touchline their tattered black gowns trailing behind them. The cold rain beats down incessantly. The puddles reflect the hard, grey sky and the grass is littered with the white leaves of the holm oaks. And in another part of the field a party of pigeons stand bemused. A squirrel sits on its haunches munching into an acorn.
From 19th December 2019
I can never think of the weather of dreary. But today is as close to the description that Charlotte Bronte makes of that “drear November day” on the opening page of Jane Eyre which she describes as “a pale blank of mist and cloud”. Squalls of rain beat up and down the street. Water runs down the windows in torrents. The whole day feels thick and leaden and the sea heaves itself into ugly surging wrinkles. And then, quite suddenly the sun lances down through the clouds and splashes on the red brick walls opposite and for a moment the rain and wind cease. The weather, always ready to surprise. Always there to delight.
From 19th December 2015
Ever since I've lived on the cliff top I've been trying to get word equivalents for the sound of the sea. The noise is hugely variable depending on the state of the tide, the angle the waves are coming into the beach and the effect of the storms far out in the Atlantic funnelled up the Channel. Earlier this week you could make out the individual thump of the short, steep breakers in the otherwise calm night air. Later, there was a hollow tumbling boom as the wind drove the waves flat on to the beach. Tonight with the wind ripping through the clifftop bushes and making its own din there is a single undifferentiated roar of pink noise. A solid wall of sound that Phil Spector would have been proud of.
From 19th December 2010
coffee drinkers sitting at tables outside. snow piling up on their woolly hats. the grey sea beyond
