Friday, July 31, 2009

Harbour

Seahouses, Northumberland.

Unassuming and lo-fi, a place for the occasional Sunday afternoon out, when I was a kid - (whispers) when Dad was capable.

A couple of decades later, I could see more to Seahouses than I had done as a child. It stood as an invite to slow down, unwind, recharge - not a place of noise or garish colour, full of slateish greys and deep seaweed greens. It was, perhaps, a bit rude of us to go intruding on those who might call the town home.

But then again, if one's freedom can be bought (temporarily) for the small yet alluring sum of a bag of bacon bits, then perhaps the onus should be on a little more fishy self-restraint. Still, no harm done.

From our digging and sand-piling, The Boy and I turned a tad artful. A few days earlier, we'd stopped off in Durham for breakfast, and to watch Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (not quite as dark and doomy as I'd imagined, pleasing for Jim Broadbent's Professor Horace Slughorn and Evanna Lynch's Luna Lovegood, overall quite restrained - a breathing space before the final chapter, the filmically two-parted final chapter). I suspect there were echoes of The Dark Lord, clouding our direction, as we got down to our sand-etching.

The Boy's work (above), and my own (below).

Try as he might, The Boy's sea-beckoning did rather fall a bit flat.

But lo and behold, when that tide turns, it does race in across those sandy Northumberland plains. And thus we did bear witness to the inglorious destruction of our work. It was gradual, it was wet, it was what we'd wait for. Which reminds me of something, well, elsewhere, that I read recently. Each unto his and her own in this wee family of t' 'net. Back in the land of wholesome goodness, and my, see the creation come a-tumbling down:

It turned out to be a more relaxing week than I'd imagined it would be. Emma was with us for much of it, which helped. My family dropped by to join us for some puffin-spotting - not overlooking the razorbills, guillemots, shags, arctic terns, seals and more, about the Farne Islands. It was good.

The Boy and I caught (and were rather pathetically scared by) a pipefish - well how was I to know that the damned thing would wriggle out of the bucket?! The Boy was impressed (and amused) at my delicate flick of said specimen, back into the harbour. And so it goes.

That was all a week ago. The Boy has been with the paternal clan, in Abersoch, this week - he gets about. I miss him. But his Dad timed their trip well, very well indeed... Emma grinds on, with what she must.

So, this week, I have been sustained by Wallander, Taking the Flak, Psychoville, and by the silly silly game that is XpertEleven. Couldn't quite bring myself to write (like, proper big really selfish stuff) or get out much.

As I write this, trickle-down grind reaches me, and so to it must I turn. Must I. I must.

Hope you're catching some summer... relaxation, that your bearing is positive, and that you (the visible, and the quiet ones) are well - simple but effective, seems reasonable enough.
.

11 comments:

Meanwhile... said...

Seahouses is magnificent.

Huw said...

Pipefish are a kind of yardstick for me, in that I am very suspicious of people who aren't a bit frightened by such creatures.

I'm trying to enjoy the summer, but WHAT summer? Not like they used to be: so much for global... oh, I'm sorry, I accidently started writing my Daily Express editorial just then.

PI said...

I was enthralled by the fish in the see through bucket. Sadly H.Pottter is out of my realm.
I followed the naughty link - oh my goodness - on a Monday morning!
I love that part of the world - so fresh and untainted.
I followed the Abersoch link 'cos my sister had her first honeymoon there and then couldn't get back - air blue - links can be over- rated.
I feel I let you down about Big Bro but do watch Wallander occasionally and don't miss the new 3 part series I've just been down stairs to check the name and came back without. Bugger!
'Single handed' ITV 1 Sunday 9pm. Excellent.

Shane said...

M - You do go on and on. Couldn't you make the same point in fewer words... but yes, yes, magnificent would be the word.
H - Our's was the ripest kind of pipefish-recoil. It yelled 'Not from round here' in the loudest dancing-about-like-right-whoopsies terms.
P - You may shriek 'On a Monday morning!' about the naughty link, but Patricia, what might I say about your collection of Sean Connery postcards, about your Daniel Day-Lewis tea-towel, about your rather vulgar Noel Edmonds t-shirt? Do I shriek 'On a Monday afternoon!', or 'Surely not here on Earth!', or even 'My god, the old bird's absolutely lost it big-time, this time', I do not. I say 'Patricia, you're very dear to me, just as are my similarly lurid blog cousins'.

Queenie said...

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside.

Carnalis said...

Hello.

I came here hoping for a little news, and found it, to my delight.

I have visited Seahouses and remember it well and fondly. My mother regularly visited while a child and passed on her memories too.

I hope the summer continues kindly.

Meanwhile... said...

r.e. Abersoch:

That's just scary. Unless your browser displays things in a totally different way to mine, in which case it's just lost on you.

Also, under famous literary references.

hilaryusfun said...

What a magnificent sandcastle. Truly fabulous!

Pat said...

Hi hon!

Huw said...

Blog, damn you.

Stella Mcartney said...

sand castle is really amazing good work