8th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Not quite a frost but there is a heavy dew on the grass and the faint breeze is icy cold. A blackbird chip chips its warning call. The gulls are rafting out at sea. A thrush stands alert on the path before flying off. The sea stretches and sighs. The sky is absolutely cloudless and has that greenish hue that is special to the dawn. The sun melts up over the horizon. Becaue there are no clouds to create dramatic colours and shapes, it is strangely pristine white gold. But the warmth is immediate and pigeons begin their dozy dawn song.
From 8th october 2021
A dry, misty morning. The sea swooshing gently across the sand leaving scallops of white foam all the way along the beach. The gulls are in full winter plumage. The black headed gulls have lost their distinctive dark chocolatey head colouring but they chase among the larger herring gulls hissing and running at rival black-heads to drive them away. A single white campion on a tall straggling stem does its best to look cheerful among the brown and orange grasses. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn
From 8th October 2015
Although it's still dark there is a faint smudge of light above the Isle of Wight. A gothic crescent moon is wreathed in clouds which sometimes allow a brief bright pinprick of light from Venus. Even the vertical drinking teams are now horizontal in their cheap hotel beds. the dark is not without life, though. A white moth flutters ghost-like in a street light, a robin chips annoyed at being disturbed, a spider drags its shadow along the path. Three joggers plod wearily around the clifftop paths. I can hear the sound of the recyclers and bin men at work. A council truck makes its way slowly along the promenade. Overhead, almost silent, the first flight from Hurn to Jersey while out at sea the Barfleur and a little bunkering tanker make their way across the bay. Bournemouth, the city that never sleeps.
