My son might have chosen to live out his university years in a place (Dundee) that is about as far as he could have got from us in West Yorkshire, while staying in the UK. But, there are compensations. Over in the distance, Arthur’s Seat and Edinburgh. Closer to the camera, the Firth of Forth, all taken just before passing through Burntisland station.
Brighton is still in the top ten of this blog’s most-depicted locations, but hasn’t been seen since February 2018, until yesterday anyway. There are reasons why I should regain the habit of coming here. How much longer the old West Pier will last before collapsing entirely into the sea, no one knows for sure, but the ruins will doubtless feature on many people’s photos before they do.
I started this blog on 26th August 2011, ten full years ago. Since then I have become ten years older, greyer, stouter. I do not pass judgment on whether I am wiser by a decade; only that the last 18 months have made me more cynical. This morning, our last in Hastings, I sat on the shingle beneath Hastings Pier and, like this couple, contemplated the sea on a warm and pleasant morning.
And the next ten years? If you’re still interested, follow along.
Clare and (for the third time in four days) Joe amble along the rim of the country. To the left, nothing until Dieppe in France. To the right, the town of Hastings, home for the next few nights. The evenings draw in, but summer remains with us.
“Oh, hello, Ms Grey. Lovely day for the time of year.”
“Indeed, Ms. Brown. The good weather’s brought the humans out, too.”
“Yes, I hear this is one of the best spots in Norfolk to see humans. Ah well, time for a swim.”
More than the hills and relatively extensive views seen yesterday, this is how I expected the Norfolk coast to look. Maybe the weather wasn’t quite as good as it seems here, but those are the benefits of post-processing.
If given the chance I would remove the white lines on the bottom right and there’s a little red sign between the benches that bothers me. But otherwise I am satisfied with this shot of the landward end of Cromer Pier which evokes a misty but pleasant day doing very little in North Norfolk, waiting…
The beauty of Cumbria is not entirely found in its lakes and mountains. The coast is also very fine. After a terrible morning’s weather put the high country out of bounds, we got out anyway and Sandscale Haws, near Barrow, gave us something to enjoy as the weather cleared. Joe practices his ballet moves, it seems.
A burst of freedom. As we are allowed to visit family at the present time — under conditions of whatever — we had a day trip to the great gash in the landscape that is Morecambe Bay. On the other side, Grange-over-Sands. The figures seen on the tidal flats are presumably a family: but even if they’re not, what business is it of mine.
Yesterday’s rather sombre subject matter was matched by the Thursday weather on Alderney, but the sun returned today to brighten up our last day in the Channel Islands: we had breakfast here, lunch in Guernsey and dinner at home, in Hebden Bridge. The general family consensus was that we could take or leave Guernsey, but the smaller islands we visited, Sark and Alderney, do tempt one into fantasies of retiring from the world to island life. It’s places like Braye beach — almost empty on a glorious August morning — that particularly encourage this.
Being 42 