4th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Not too cold. The wind is more playful than buffet. The sea just that little more langorous. The sky is more bubbly than flat and from time to time, a weak shadow appears on the path in front of me. Seagulls veer in and out of the seascape adding a dot here or a quick pencil mark there. Squirrels are especially playful careering up and down the trunks of the pines after each other. And there is the January Jay; as good looking as ever but doubtless up to no good. The wagtails are as bouncy as ever.
From 4th January 2022
The character of the weather has changed completely from the last few days. it is cold. The clouds are broken slabs and plates of graphite edged with white. The wind is sharp and nipping. As it jostles the clouds apart and together, little patches of blue appear and occasionally a watery sun throws a little warmth on the day. Little wisps of cloud along the horizon look like a row of typographer’s punctuation marks. The sea is flat and smooth but from somewhere, large, separate waves rise up at the beach and curl over with a distinct thump. A jay swoops low across the path in front of me. A delicate pink with distinctive black and white patches and a brilliant flash of blue on the wing. A pretty bird but not pretty of habits. #Bournemouth #westcliff #January #winter
From 4th January 2021
A vicious wind pinches my ears ad nips my nose like the Eton school Bully. He slaps my cheeks raw. The sea jeers lazily from the darkness. Great grey fat clouds are just visible tumbling across the black sky. Trees huddle together in the darkness. Street lamps shine down starkly on the empty path. Police siren punch through the darkness from the other side of the chine, their blue lights flash crisply in the numbing air. As I jingle my keys at my door I happen to glance at my phone. It ticks over to exactly ten thousand steps. That must be a good omen.
From 4th January 2017
I can't see the horizon in the pitch black of the night, so the big slab of the Oceana seems to be suspended in the darkness half way between the clifftop and the top of the sky as in some conjuror's trick. It looks lovely but you wouldn't get me up in one.
From 4th January 2012
The sun bursts in through my window like a burglar planning to rob me of my last moments of sleep.
