8th September from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

When the sun shines from between the grey clouds it produces big silver puddles on the raggedy sea. And then the dark shadows from the clouds slide this way and that making a shimmering brocade scene. Gulls hurl themselves from the cliff top but then bank steeply back to land beside the pigeons standing hunched against the savage breeze.

A row of plastic lavatories have sprung up like autumn mushrooms in the shelter of the holm oaks. There appears to be no particular reason for this manifestation.

Many of the deciduous trees sacrificed leaves to the drought but with the return of the rains, the green is revived and gives an odd harlequin effect to the pedunculate oak.

From 8th September 2021

Streaks and bubbles of purple and charcoal clouds across the pale blue late evening sky. Elderly ladies pull their thin white cardigans tight against the brisk on-shore breeze. Two figures, each with a large carrier bag that clink loudly disappear into the trees. In the near dark couples whisper to each other on the clifftop benches as they must have done for generations past. From somewhere not too far away a tawny owl hoots. He is not answered by his mate.

From 8th September 2020

Betwixt and between. The air is still warm but there is a cool breeze. The sky is thick with grey clouds. The sea rustles on the flat sand. Our four ghost ships, cruise liners with nowhere to go, line up like isolated grey office blocks against the horizon. Soft voices and laughter from the cafe. A lone swimmer ploughs across the bay. We are all waiting.