3rd November from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A dreary, damp, drizzly, dismal day. Pigeons and gulls are spread out across the Green pecking half-heartedly at the wet grass. The paths are lined with a wet mulch or brown and yellow leaves. The wagtails have found something hilarious and and are bouncing up and down, hardly able to contain their amusement. One of the goats poses for the camera. But the wind has dropped to a whisper and the sea is much less exercised than it has been. And, to the West, a thin strip of pale blue that may herald a brighter afternoon.
From 3rd November 2021
The palest green sky edged with purple clouds and a slight mist so difficult to see where the sky ends and the rumpled silver sea begins. The waves rustle like kitchen foil. The air is cold and a deep dew covers the grass. Robins and wrens trill from the bushes. A blackbird chacks as it flies up from the path. A strip of candy pink to the east and then the the sun bursts above the clouds in a blistering orange gold flash. A lone gull circles mourning its lost soul. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #november
From 3rd November 2013
When you live near the sea you can take the big beast for granted. Even when it's wild you stand on the safety of the cliff top and enjoy the spectacle. And you take it for granted that people who set out to enjoy it will be safe and well because the beast lives only a few yards from your front door and you are quite used to its presence. And then it turns in an instant and bites and bites hard and we realise how much we rely on the men and women of the volunteer services who will put themselves in peril of their own lives for our well being. And when it goes badly these ordinary people, these dentists and hair dressers and accountants, the ones we know at the bar of the Red Lion, have to carry with them a burden we will never know or understand. Thank you.
