26th August

In the heat of the early afternoon, two guys are sparring on the West Cliff Green. They crouch and sway. They bob and weave, bright green gloves flashing in the sunshine. As they dance, they close and rain a few choice blows before dancing apart. Slap slap slap is the sound of the soft leather. They work hard and the enjoyment of is all in the movement. It is choreography of two people enjoying the day. The sky overhead is blue as is the sea. The long crescent of sand is white curving away to the dark tapestry of the hills opposite. An elderly couple sit on one of the benches. They prefer to watch the sea and the sand rather than the dancers. Theirs is another form of closeness, of amity. They remain still gazing out to the bay whilst, in the heat of the afternoon, the boxers dance on.

From August 26th 2021

The day is warm and bright but rags of grey cloud obscure the sun from time to time while the summer breeze makes the waves scintillate and flash with a thousand thousand tiny mirrors. The Dorset Belle purrs slowly along level with the beach. The passengers line the rail watching us watching them. A sudden raspy growl as an offshore takes off across the bay leaving a white foamy wake right out to the horizon.

From August 26th 2020

The sun is strong enough to cast sharp late afternoon shadows. Where there is shelter from the chilly breeze the carpet of pine needles throw up a rich, aromatic wave of warmth. The green blue sea wrinkles and stretches and makes a cavalier lacy collar on the flat sand. One or two bathers enjoy the waves and above the intense blue is shaded now and then by a high mares’ tails and mackerel sky. A pigeon feeds greedily on the thick grass seed heads and makes little effort to move aside for me. I remember pigeons feeding on spilt grain amid the corn stubble with crops so full that they made easy pickings for those who enjoyed pigeon pie. This pigeon is lucky I no longer enjoy such delicacies.