31st October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sun glares from between the ragged scraps of cloud.
The sun glares from between the ragged scraps of cloud. Reflecting up off the heaping green waves. There is enough sunshine for couples to promenade after breakfast. A man stands on a little raised area of ground and whistles. He continues whistling for some minutes. “Is there a dog on the end of that whistle?” I ask. he shrugs. “She does what she wants. Goes where she pleases.” A gull hangs motionless on the strong breeze. A goat bleats and rushes off as he has some important head bunting to do. A little later an unclaimed dog lead hangs from a tree. The whistling man is still where he was - whistling. Later still, the day closes in and rain patters on the path.
From 31st October 2021
Although autumn started early this year, it is taking a long time to get going in earnest. Thre are both green and yellow leaves on the sweet chestnuts. The big blustery wind has brought down branches of some size as well as the usual haul of twigs and pine needles. But again, there is as much green debris as gold. The surf roars and rushes out of the darkness but there are decided bumps when the curling breakers hit the beach. Every so often a torrent of rain deluges from the scurrying clouds paters on the hoodies of those hurrying home. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn #october
From 31st October 2020
The wind streams in hard across the clifftop throwing icy hands full of rain into my face. It buffets and brawls with the trees and bushes. The paths are covered in a spinning, drifting carpet of the long, flat yellow and gold leaves of the sweet chestnuts. It seems as though they have decided that autumn is finally here and throwing off their summer green are happy to bow and dance naked in the breeze. There is a constant roar and hiss from the sea, its white breakers reaching far up the beach. Out on the horizon our four cruise ships huddle, finding what protection they can in the lee of the Purbeck Hills. Plastic cups and cans have burst from the rubbish bins and make a jolly sounding rattle and tinkle as they are carried along. The gulls acrobat around each other silhouetted black against the brilliant yellow strip of sunrise between the steel grey of the sea and the troubled, roiling clouds. The aerials on the roof of a nearby block of flats chorus an eerie rising and falling continuo sound track. It is Halloween after all.
30th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The wet, brown leaves are forming a mulch at the side of the path. Only the veins are discernible like a myriad criss-crossing spider webs.
The wet, brown leaves are forming a mulch at the side of the path. Only the veins are discernible like a myriad criss-crossing spider webs. Dry yellow leaves, released from their branches skitter along the path in front of the fresh breeze. Raindrops hang uncertainly in the air. The sea and and the wind in the trees make the same rushing sound that fills the whole clifftop. Wagtails are the only birds that seem to enjoy the boisterous wind with their little flicks of flight from one spot to another. Gulls hang apparently motionless. A helicopter drones overhead. The crisp, brown fronds of bracken rattle together like old bones.
From 30th October 2021
Sitting in the warm sun watching the big waves throw themselves onto the beach is pleasant but the wind is cold and sharp when it disappears behind those huge, puffy duvets of cloud. The magpies are becoming more cheeky and asking for titbits. A pair of wagtails bob and weave acrosss the grass. The gulls are surprisingly graceful as the swoop and turn on or just hold steady on the breeze, motionless for minutes on end. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #October
29th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
And in the hedge glowing pink on a grey day and nodding in the breeze - the last rose of summer.
A grey, drizzly morning but still summer warm. Flurries of pigeons take off, fly around and settle again. The sea chatters as if annoyed with the sand. Long ribbons of brown weed mark the tide’s edge. Signs of autumn are all around. A bright red creeper clambers through the brown of the clifftop. And in the hedge glowing pink on a grey day and nodding in the breeze - the last rose of summer.
From 29th October 2011
A sharp breeze snaps at my face on the clifftop. The world is beginning to emerge from the darkness. I can see pinpricks of light from fishing boats putting out from Swanage and the red blink of the Needles ighthouse. On the Island I can see the headlights from a car making its way on the cliffs behind the Needles and the distant red fairy lights of the Chillerton Down and Rowridge transmitters. Everything has that soft brown aspect that you see as the dawn breaks on a cloudy day. Now I can see little rowing boats dotting Poole bay and the fishermen standing still catching the morning tide. But before I have reached home again it is bright day and the strangeness has all gone.
28th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The sun is hot and its rays are focussed up off the ruffled water of the bay making it as warm as a summer’s day.
The sun is hot and its rays are focussed up off the ruffled water of the bay making it as warm as a summer’s day. Only the strong wind makes the day bearable. The waves crash onto the shore before pausing, and then crawling away for another go. The blue sky is streaked with contrails and long white clouds. On the cliff face, hidden in the gorse bushes, the goats keep in touch with their strange bleating. A small aeroplane drones overhead. A rib slices across the green waves. A robin and a wagtail keep company on the short grass. They fly up together and move from place to place almost as if they were playing together. Robins are not usually known for their sociability. Fir and pine trees keep hold of their cones for several years and the massive Monterey Pines keep their large, lop sided cones for up to twenty years or more. These huge trees thrive in our temperate climate so, despite their enormous size and deeply ridged bark that makes them appear ancient, they are probably no older than the smaller Scots Pines around them. The cones tend to come down in crowns of four or five at a time. And the trees themselves sometimes split and come crashing apart. So for all sorts of reasons it is advisable not to park your car under a Monterey.
From 28th October 2021
The heavyweight wind thumps and buffets as if practising in the ring for the big fight. It spars with the aerials on the roof of the flats making them howl. The big rollers make a roar as though anticipating the fight. A big cloud of maybe a hundred gulls hang like smoke rising from all the cigars of the punters. The sky is tattered and torn like the canvas of an old boxing booth and we can see occasional glimpses of a more tranquil world of pale blue-green and gold. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #October #weather
From 28th October 2013
It's the sweet chestnuts that seem to have borne the brunt of the storm on the west cliff. Not surpising really. They have been clinging on to their thick green foliage. Add to that the weight of a bumper crop of prickly fruit and the deluge of rain, branches are bound to give way in the storm. But sweet chestnut is a remarkable regenerator. I know a whole avenue of the trees that have struck out from a row of bare chestnut fence posts so we shouldn't notice the difference by next summer.
27th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Although there are still eight weeks to go to the solstice, the sun is noticeably low in the sky and on a warm, blue sky day like today, the shadows are long at mid day.
Although there are still eight weeks to go to the solstice, the sun is noticeably low in the sky and on a warm, blue sky day like today, the shadows are long at mid day. Saunterers still can’t decide whether it’s tee shirts or down coats. By lunch time people are filling all the benches and eating leisurely picnics. It is half term so children are swinging from the low branches of the holm oaks or kicking through the soft carpets of pine needles. It could still be summer.
From 27th October 2015
The kestrel hangs apparently motionless in the updraught from the cliff edge. A gull approaching with languid wing beats glides into view high above. The newcomer, following some deep genetic need circles down towards the kestrel which remains unmoved, apparently unconcerned. The gull eases in a wide circle around the hunter, and receiving no acknowledgement of its presence stands off and circles a little way away. At last,the gull breaks fomation and sweeps across the kestrel's view. The kestrel dips a wing and slides away a little further down the cliff. The gull, honour satisfied, circles up and on. There appears no animosity between the birds, they are just dancers in an atavistic ritual that must be performed to ancient rules and they do it effortlessly and with grace.
From 27th October 2013
Now we are emerging from our storm shelters and underground bunkers we need to have a bit of a sit down and a cup of tea. As the Wrath of Jude was not quite as devastating as forecast i shall be disposing of seven cases of corned beef, 9 ditto baked beans, 13 boxes of candles, 4 sleeves of matches, 27 litres bottled water, two camping stoves and associated bottled gas, 3 hurricane lamps, 4 miner's helmets with little torches, 15 blankets, emergency distress flares, ropes, karabiners, breathing apparatus, stretchers and so on and so on
26th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Afternoon brings thin, weak rays of sun making muffled shadows among the trees.
Sudden heavy showers of rain come and go, The sea hisses and roars as it slaps the flat, empty, mirrored sand. Afternoon brings thin, weak rays of sun making muffled shadows among the trees. The paths dry out. The wind is narrow and thrusts out from behind each bush like a highwayman’s rapier. Although it is not very cold. A robin tries out a peculiar thin trill from the bush he has chosen as his podium, Gulls circle at enormous height so that they are mere pencil marks against the clouds.
From 26th October 2015
The thick grey clouds jostle each other apart and a sudden streamer of sunlight lights up the grey green foam flecked sea with a puddle of pure platinum
From 26th October 2014
Beyond the black hunched bushes, the wrinkled polished steel sea stretches to the horizon. Distant gulls pass to and fro and a whisp of cloud scurries across the dawn. The sky lightens, still grey above the sea then pink, gold and an everlasting pale translucent blue.
25th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A squirrel meets me on the steps and, deciding I have no importance in his world, edges by.
Rained all night in big, sudden squalls; the rainwater suddenly rushing down the gutters and then, just as suddenly, stopping. So the day becomes raggedy, stop start, undecided. Cloudy and dull, underpinned by a brisk wind. The sea jagged and middling rough. The workmen, clear the paths of autumn debris and, for an hour or two, they are smart and clear until autumn begins its work again. The sun pierces through magically and lights a little brake of green sweet chestnut leaves with almost luminous intensity before it is blanked out again. A squirrel meets me on the steps and, deciding I have no importance in his world, edges by. Small flocks of tits and finches begin to appear, flitting together from bush to bush.
From 25th October 2021
There is still a pale afterglow of sunset to the West. The stars begin to prickle the darkening sky. Saturn and Jupiter shine out like beacons to the South. The waves are little neat shiny ridges like a newly ploughed field. The air is fresh and green smelling like new-mown grass on a cricket pitch in June. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #October #autumn
From 25th October 2020
The ragged grey clouds, the tattered remains of the storm, hurry away across the pale, late afternoon sky. The silver gibbous moon is sharp and bright even though it is still just about daylight. Threadbare, frayed bands of gulls flicker and wheel silhouetted against the fading day. Couples hurry past on the shining pavements, coat collars turned up. Lights are beginning to go on in the flats around.
24th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Sweet chestnut cases burst open and spill out their shiny saddle brown contents.
The big white and grey jumbles of cloud are pushed around by the frisky wind so that the sun can peep through warmly from time to time. Acorns from the holm oaks line the paths. Sweet chestnut cases burst open and spill out their shiny saddle brown contents. Everything seems lush and green. Stands of nettles and yellow flowers take over beneath the bushes. The rhododendrons are covered with pretty mauve buds that burst into delicate flowers. Greenfinches call from the cliff top bushes. Three small dogs chase a crow but the crow has seen it all before and takes off wearily over their heads The grass is now long and green enough for the mowers to be tackling the path edges.
From 24th October 2021
The big rollers break quite far out and only rush up the beach in a mass of white foam. Thick grey parallel lines of cloud march in from the West showing the progress of weather fronts across the sky. A darker curtain of rain can be seen across the hills. The drizzle starts to spit and then turns into a heavier rain is athe dismal aftenoon drags on. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #October #autumn
From 24th October 2013
The cloud is breaking up out to sea. Tufts and plumes are picked out in dawn pinks and orange against sweeps of dazzling white and occasional glimpses of pale blue grisaille. The sea, a dark band of grey against the horizon lightens and shades to a polished silver as it nears the shore.
From 24th October 2011
The rain crashing against my window and spooling down the glass like a carwash. This is when its fun to be inside watching scattering walkers and shoppers huddled in doorways. It’s blowing a hooly in off the greengrey sea. White horses arch their necks and toss their flowing manes. Even up here my windows are covered in salt spray. The bushes thrash and the pine tree sways
23rd October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
And in a matter of seconds, the rain becomes a torrent and unwary walkers are instantly drenched. The hail joins the rain. It is hard and hurtful and everything is lost in a grey out.
Thunder and heavy rain during the early hours. But now it’s a day to be outside. The sky is blue and the sun is strong. A family of Five magpies chase each other through the tree tops. Five for silver. And now there is a silvery sheen to the sky as the clouds build up. It is warm enough for people to swimm and the waves are no more than big playful puppies not knowing their own size and strength and push the unwary swimmer over. All afternoon there are grumbles of thunder from an enormous storm out in the channel. Then a big charcoal shelf of cloud pushes over the horizon. The eyes of God slant down through the edges. Rain showers can be seen in the distance and, just as the sun disappears, a rainbow forms. Then the rumbling becomes distinct claps of thunder. The wise are already running for cover as the big drops of rain start to fall. And in a matter of seconds, the rain becomes a torrent and unwary walkers are instantly drenched. The hail joins the rain. It is hard and hurtful and everything is lost in a grey out. The thunder continues but by now we are inside. Clothes heavy with water and the best view of the storm is through a window.
From 23rd October 2021
A cold wind and grey skies. But old friends and good company warms you through.
From 23rd October 2013
Across the cliff the sky is thickly blue-black and hunched, looking for trouble. Directly above it is the palest blue and speaks of milk maids on their way to the dairy.
Later
Those big ugly clouds have cleared off for breakfast. A mass of gold edged hangers-on are racing after them so that they don't miss the action.
22nd October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Gulls cicle aimlessly, black scraps against the grey.
Weak sunshiney dawn which soon morphs into a uniform grey. Without the sun, everything is flat without shadow or definition. Autumn is heavy in the stands of brown bracken. The crow practises a new sound which resembles a clockwork train being wooound up laboriously. Gulls cicle aimlessly, black scraps against the grey. They utter a single cry of chupa-chupa-chup. The wind rstles hurriedly through the trees. The sea roars quietly to itself.
From 22nd October 2021
The sun slips down from the gold filigree edged cloud behind the charcoal band at the horizon. A chilly wind nips and snaps. The sea is corrugated into a pale green corduroy like an ancient art teacher's trousers. Then just a little while later to the east the invisible moon illuminates the clouds from behind with a an eerie silver theatrical glow. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #October
From 22nd October 2013
Big electrical storm just off Purbeck.What's the best way to feel better on a gloomy, wet, dark night? Yes, make bread. And already that warm, comforting smell is filling the place.
21st October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
After the cataracts are the hurricanoes. Big bear like winds rampaging through the trees.
After the cataracts are the hurricanoes. Big bear like winds rampaging through the trees. Branches creak and grate so that the walker needs to hurry their steps lest something might come crashing down. The paths are deep in the prickly cases of the sweet chestnuts, their shiny mahogany contents strewn across the whole area. A white drift is the bell flowers of the strawberry tree. The sea is ugly and bad tempered, crashing high up on the beach and leving a scummy line of sea weed and yellow froth at the tide’s edge. There are still walkers on the sand, struggling, head down against ther blast. Crows, pigeons and gulls all delight in the updraught, angling their wings and letting themselves be tossed around, not making any other effort but to play with their element. A kestrel uses the wind to hover and drift. In its claw is the remains of some small creature that it snacks on as it is carried along on the draught. later it cruises back having finished lunch.
From 21st October 2021
The long lazy waves are transparent green before they slap down in a mass of white foam. The sea is indigo blue. Flocks of gulls wheel almost soundlessly in the gentle breeze. The evergreens are needle sharp against the sheer blue sky. The straw coloured afternoon sun casts long shadows of the ilex trees over the startling green grass. The air as cold and crisp. Three young people huddle together on a bench sharing a long roll up. They wave at me. They are content. A magpie has found a piece of bread and struts around with it displaying it proudly. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn #October
From 21st October 2020
Earlier the rain rattled against my windows and the windscreen wipers of the cars turning round in the road below were hurrying back and forth flick flack flick flack. But when I step out into the dull, dead, late afternoon, the rain has turned to a damp drizzle. It is not cold but there is a sharp breeze. The sea is sullen and grey and grumbles at the beach. A group of orange clad workmen are finishing up from where they have been making safe the trees which have tipple toppled in the late storms. There is a smell of damp leaves and the the clifftop is red with bracken interspersed with brakes of teasels and the brown spears of evening primrose but there is a bright green understorey of plants readying themselves for the spring. Looking back, I am struck by the fact that there is little signs of autumn among the trees. We are surrounded by evergreens, pines and holm oaks. But there is one wind twisted oak that shows a splash of yellow against the dark green. The greensward is covered with worm casts – hated by lawn keepers but beloved by Charles Darwin. The local dealer has hauled his bike into the toilets to keep himself out of the weather. We are all one under the sky.
20th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The red branches of an old, leaning, Scots Pine glow pink in the late sun.
After last night’s watery cataracts, the grey slowly breaks up and by afternoon there is a blue sky and a gentle warm breeze. The sea is a pale eau-de-nil and is calming. The Green is suddenly full of saunterers and all the benches are occupied. The low sun casts long shadows and the honey light oozes through the pines. The light is perfect for showing up the deep ridges of the bark on the pines. The red branches of an old, leaning, Scots Pine glow pink in the late sun. A crow continues to practise its range of grunts, growls and gurgles from its branches.
From 20th October 2021
During the afternoon the big waves bump onto the beach with an appropriate wallop and the white water creeps high up the beach. The wind drives kite surfers far out into the bay jumping and turning above the waves in extravagent acrobatic swoops. The grey clouds race across the sky and the sun manages brief appearances. By the evening there is a steady drizzle turning the tunnels cast by the streetlamps through the treees like fairy paths with the light glittering off the wet leaves of rhododendrons. Then the downpour becomes a hard, driving deluge. The sea roars out of the darkness and I head for home. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #October
From 20th October2017
The pine branches thrash and grope across the street lamps making shadows on the path like the ogrous hands and arms of a Hollywood film producer. Time to get inside and draw the blinds before Brian follows us home.
19th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The glassy green swell of the sea is hurried forward towards the beach where it breaks in long, deep white foam fields that stretch far out from the shore
The trees, still laden with summer leaves wallow and sway at the bullying of the big, blowzy, blustery wind. Branches creak and groan. The glassy green swell of the sea is hurried forward towards the beach where it breaks in long, deep white foam fields that stretch far out from the shore. But from a milky sky the sun is strong and some benches are occupied by lunch time sandwich eaters huddled inside their coats. Flocks of pigeons scurry hither and back again.
From 19th October 2021
The wind chases the sand up the promenade in swirling arabesques and streamers. For a moment it piles up in little drifts before it is picked up again and whisked off in a flurry of spirals and eddies as befits World Ballet Day. The clouds are thick and solid despite the steady wind and the mist never clears from the horizon. The breakers are rugged and heap up before curling onto the shore in a mass of white foam. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #October #gale
From 19th October 2019
A bright white moon sat on Orion's shoulder. A small, fat badger stopped on the path in front of me. We surveyed each other for a few seconds and, then, exasperated by me not getting out of his way, he waddled away and found another path through the fence and down the cliff.
From 19th October 2017
And the pine trees said to the sea "We can roar louder than thee." And the sea answered "I can roar louder than all the pine trees in all the forests in the world." And the wind said "You only roar because of me. And I can make roar in pain and dread or in joy with terpsichore. But tonight I will make you roar louder than that. Tonight, together we can roar louder than any man can think." And so they did.
From 19th October 2011
There is an abstract perfection in the dawn. The sea graduates evenly from bright silver to indigo at the knife edge horizon. It is like a piece of finest Sheffield Steel. A purple mass of distant cloud grows up beyond this and is, in turn, etched against an umblemished sky fading from orange gold, through pale green to a faultless blue. The bent and twisted pine tree stands in silhouette and emphasisises the mathematical precision of the scene behind.
18th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Here and there is a sugaring of frost; the first this autumn. Everywhere else is wet with a heavy dew.
Here and there is a sugaring of frost; the first this autumn. Everywhere else is wet with a heavy dew. The sky is intensely blue with a tiny white scratch from an airliner on its way to Tenerife. The breeze is cold but the sun is warm. A cloud of pigeons fragments among the trees. Wagtails sail across the grass in their jerky, flight. Always on the look out for fun. On a lamp post, a crow demonstrates its newly found gurgling call to his mate who seems singularly unimpressed. And then the grey clouds roll in and the sea shivers into little ripples and bigger waves.
From 18th October 2021
A boisterous, buffeting breeze under a lumpy, racing cloud-cover. The waves are big and grey and where they have excavated a bund of sand with a bulldozer for the big piling machines to work replacing the groynes, the white tops of the waves are crashing over. Excavators work hard piling sand on sand as it steadily washes away. On the Clifftop, because morost of the foliage ie evergreen there is little sign of autumn except for the bracken and the long grass patches and the sweet chestnuts which are all turning chocolatey and golden. Mallow and foxgloves are putting out leaves ready for next year. Flocks of gulls and pigeons are tossed around in the wind. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #autumn
From 18th October 2019
The sky is still pale blue to the west but it is smudged over with heavy black clouds. The wind is chilly and buffeting. The roar of the waves at the bottom of the tide chases at my heels like an insistent small dog as I walk along the cliff top. Out side the Toilets I see a group of guys, shoulders hunched against the breeze. The dealer circles them on his push bike. You can get anything by Deliveroo these days. They know me and I know them. We don’t bother each other. We usually nod and exchange a few words but tonight they scatter in the wind like scraps of burnt paper from a bonfire. Two youngish men dressed in dinner suits and shorty raincoats look straight out of a sixties spy film. I haven’t got the heart to tell them their western style bow ties are wonky.
From 18th October 2015
A flat, grey dawn. A thumbnail scratch of gold to show that the sun is there somewhere. The air is chill and sweet. In the bay a party of gulls is squabbling over the free breakfast the fisherman has found for them. On the clifftop a family of wagtails are busily inspecting the turf, their tails, as advertised, flicking with delight.
17th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
As soon as the breeze dries the paths and the evening sun is on them even the uninspiring architecture of the sixties and seventies can look striking, bold and uplifting.
The West Cliff Green is sandwiched between the cliff edge and the line of buildings to the North on the inland side. These buildings started out in the middle of the nineteenth century as large gentlemen’s residences and villas which then made way for a series of Edwardian hotels, hydros and hostels for single ladies. These in turn were replaced by blocks of apartments of various styles and heights and so they continue today. Of course, no one looks in this direction. People come to gaze South over the wide expanse of Poole Bay or to lie on the grass and watch the clouds in the sky. But today begins wet and miserable and walkers and idlers can’t help but notice the extraordinarily uninspired architecture of the sixties and seventies. They are a series of flat back drops. But as soon as the breeze dries the paths and the evening sun is on them even they can look striking, bold and uplifting. A gull sails by on stiff, unbending wings.
From 17th October 2021
The fronds of bracken turn from their deep summer green to a bright yellow to the familiar rusty brown we see for the rest of the winter. But in this autumn transition you can see all three colours at once, green, yellow and brown making a sort of harlequin patchwork along side the paths. As the sun dips towards the horizon it cascades a bold pinkish gold flood low down through the trees and casts long dark shadows on the path in front of me.
From 17th October 2010
October is the most gorgeous month. The trees are still green but now touched with gold and orange outline after a sharp frost. The hedgerows are festooned with trails of old man's beard and garlands of scarlet hips. Holly is at its best with the blood red berries untouched by the birds against glossy green leaves. The year is in party mood and is dressing up for one last mad fling before the winter.
16th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Fungi flourish where they are undisturbed.
Somehow the sun glimmered enough through the misty milky grey murk to make the morning warm enough for a swim. The promenade is crowded and there are a fair number of walkers on the beach. Perhaps they sense this may be the last Sunday of Summer. But the wind is still strong and the cloud thickens up during the afternoon until the steady squalls of rain drive the visitors away. The gulls are rafting out to sea suggesting there is a bit of a blow on the way. Magpies chatter from the beter protected branches. The hazelbush which was almost burnt bare by the drought has put out a show of catkins and fungi flourish where they are undisturbed.
From 16th October 2021
The blue sky this afternoon was streaked with high filaments of white clouds bunched togeether to give the familiar beautiful Mares' Tails effect. And, indeed they do look just like proud swishy tail of a grey horse. The proper name for these is cirrus which means ringlet in latin and often presage a change in the weather. Indeed, by late afternoon the sea had ruffled under a strengthening cool wind.
From 16th October 2019
A stiff breeze and drifts of rain across the streetlamps. A continuous rushing from the sea with no wave breaks. No point in wiping my glasses so I enjoy the fractured kaleidoscopic lightshow from hotel dining rooms preparing for breakfast, the orange beacons from the bin lorry and the bright spotlights of the tractor on the beach battling the encroaching sand
From 16th October 2016
Watching the rain crossing the horizon dragging the blue sky after it.
From 16th October 2013
The rain is thrashing in from the sea and cataracting down my window. Through the cascades of water I can see the old bent pine wrestling with the weather. The sea is invisible in the grey murk.
15th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Raggedy jagged craggy furrowed grumpy old man waves.
Raggedy jagged craggy furrowed grumpy old man waves. Pushy shovey bumptious breeze send the autumn leaves swirling, twirling along the footpaths in little whirlwinds. The sun peers out from behind the bars of slatey clouds and drops a brilliant luminous lifeline to the distant horizon but the cloud wardens shuts it down and the day returns to misty, drifting drizzly gloom as before. A barrel full of sparrows chatter in the warmth of an evergreen bush. A man wit an enormous grey half beard hurries along clutching a bunch of red carnations.
From 15th October 2021
Another, warm, grey, windless day. Sounds have that curiously muffled sound that is typical of October. I see a someone kneeling beneath the pines with hands over his ears. Drawing closer I see it is just an old, whitened tree stump. A pigeon crackles out of the bushes next to me. It is odd how this place is more uncanny on a Friday afrternoon like this than at midnight in the depths of winter.
From 15th October 2019
The fog is not thick but I cannot see the sea from the clifftop. The waves make a constant rushing sound out of the stillness. Moisture drips from the bushes and trees. The street lamp glow is absorbed into the mist which makes an artificial seeming layer beneath the trees like a cheap movie effect. It is not cold and the air is calm. The sky lightens and a robin sings from a clifftop bush. Whatever the time of day or night, what ever time of the year, there is always a robin singing.
From 15th october 2016
The most brilliant Hunters' Moon, splashing a great silver cloak across the velvet black sea. The ripples make the sea glint and quiver with joy. The surf is loud but has assumed a soothing, cradle rocking rhythm. The seeing is as clear as I have ever seen. Anchored off Handfast Point is the general cargo ship Velox snugged down for the night. And right out just dipping below the horizon is the cruise ship Bremen on its way from Portsmouth to Falmouth, lights blazing. I can imagine the passengers at dinner or dancing in the ballroom .I can usually see both the red flashing light of the Needles and the brilliant strobe of St Catherine's right at the southern tip of the Isle of Wight but tonight I can just make out very faintly a string of more domestic lights of the little villages all down the West Side of the Island.
From 15th October 2011
The sun was hot on our backs but the air was cool and refreshing. The sea was as warm as milk. Beautiful afternoon on the beach
14th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
Despite its quotidian atmosphere for most users, the West Cliff Green is often used as a place of remembrance.
A gloomy, sombre sort of day. The sea seems sluggish and oily. A little cold wind stirs things up. Little flurries of leaves swirl down from the trees. A squirrel crosses the path gripping a large, prickly sweet chestnut case in its mouth. It is prepared to suffer for supper. Although pied wagtails are usually about in pairs their seem to be a number of juveniles bobbing about on their own. One twitters repeatedly from the back of a bench. The West Cliff Green is a space that can assume any one of an infinite number of meanings, depending on the filter that it is looked through. Thus, despite its quotidian atmosphere to most users, it is often used as a place of remembrance. The benches all have little plaques and there are often bunches of flowers tied to the rails or in little pots on the clifftop. Occasionally, little piles of white ash. Undying love is remembered by the little padlocks clipped onto the fence. Today there is the sort of floral tribute more usually seen in a memorial garden to DAD.
14th October 2021
The short, cliff top turf is lush and vivid green in the early light. It is overlain with tissue of silver studded with masses of tiny rainbow jewels from the heavy dew. A long filament of thick white mist stretches from the harbour mouth right across the bay. It is pulled out like a roll of cotton wool, barely touching the slate grey sea while above it I can see the dark tops of the Purbeck hills and the massing clouds and above that a clear, translucent blue sky. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn #Dawn
13th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
And as if making up for the summer an autumn bloom of flowers is beginning; patches of pink oxalis, red dead nettles and the bright cranesbill.
A grey drizzly morning suddenly gives way to bright sunshine and a gentle breeze. Even though the majority of the sky is blue, there are big dark clouds around to the North. The grass is thirstily soaking up the moisture and is becoming plush green once more. And as if making up for the summer an autumn bloom of flowers is beginning; patches of pink oxalis, red dead nettles and the bright cranesbill. Even though the yellow leaves are beginning to shower down on the breeze there is still lushness and an urgency of growing everywhere. Voices are raised near the toilets because the dealer has already left on his bike and one or two individuals are left without whatever it was he has meant to bring.
From October 13th 2021
Autumn - October- seems to take a pause in the breathless, headlong surge of the year. The air is calm and still. The sea is barely ruffled and although the afternoons are warm the is a fresh crispness that promises something coming. The paths under the sweet chestnut trees ae now deep in the remains of the soft, prickly fruit. Couples still sit long into the dark evenings on the clifftop benches under the golden half moon. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn
From October 13th 2016
A gothic moon glares out from behind the silver edged ragged clouds reminding me of a painting by Caspar David Friedrich. Fingers of moonlight make bright puddles on the crawling sea which gnaws at the beach. A small dog with flashing red collar lunges at me from the darkness like some junior hound of the Baskervilles. The wind has a wintery bite to it but I find time to stop and wave at our newly installed cctv camera. I like to let the operator know that they are not forgotten in what must be one of the most soul destroying jobs in the world. Later I reconsider and imagine that the Control Room is staffed by a shy middle aged couple who have suddenly found love in each others arms whilst the scenes of drunken mayhem and fighting in the town centre go unnoticed.
12th October from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
The Hunter’s moon, just a day after full, rides across the night sky, dodging in and out of the clouds that swirl around it framed by the black silhouettes of the trees.
A sharp little wind. The sea is restless and sighs in a passive aggressive way at the sand which is clearly not particularly interested. The Hunter’s moon, just a day after full, rides across the night sky, dodging in and out of the clouds that swirl around it framed by the black silhouettes of the trees. The red eye of the Needles Lighthouse glows and blinks. A ship lies at anchor on the horizon its lights, little pinpricks in the night. A fox barks in the distance. It is a scene that is at once theatrical and so full of meaning and yet, there it is. Just as it is.
From 12th October 2021
A nippy morning and a heavy dew. The resident birds are beginning to reappear after the summer's lay off. A pair of wagtails run up and down the path in front of me chirping excitedly. The moon is a delicious golden half melon casting a golden path on the still waters of the bay. A small blcak and white cat glossy and svelt is hunting in the light of a street lamp. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #Autumn
From 12th october 2020
As the afternoon closes in, the rain blears the edges of the world outside . But opposite, I can see lights springing on and people moving about in the warm glow. People getting in from work, shaking the day off. Putting the kettle on and settling down for an autumn evening.