6th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The wind rules everything up here on the clifftop. Regardless of how hot or cold, rainy or foggy, there is almost always a movement in the air even it is only the merest breath on a misty morning. But today there is a brisk wind, almost a gale at times. But it doesn’t only drive the swell across the bay or hurry the grey clouds across the sky, it is shoving against the trees and bushes. So like most exposed places they tend to grow with a pronounced towards the north and east. Eventually the trees fall or have to be made safe. Over the years many trees have fallen (apart from the murder victims). Sometimes a stump is left or a circle in the grass where toadstools grow at this time of year.
From 6th October 2015
The apartment blocks and hotels are set back from the cliff edge. They are stout and foursquare and figures of reassuring normality pass to and fro in their golden lit windows. But a hundred paces away beyond the clumps of pines long lines of ragged white surf are marching up the beach out of the darkness. Doubt and uncertainty are never more than a glance away.
