Someone had painted the pill box on the beach again. I signed and let my dog, Teddy, sniff one of the corners. At least the “art work” didn’t look that bad this time but still, some respected might have been nice.
Once a solider would have sat inside, his only light coming through the gun slit and he would have had to watch the shore for signs of the enemy. A boring job, maybe but a crucial one to slow the enemy down when they landed.
I tugged Teddy’s lead and told him, ‘we’ll have to go back to get the whitewash again.’
He did his art on the beach. Moving the sand into shapes from his imagination and memories. He liked fantasy and animal sculptures the best but sometimes he expanded out into food or historic places.
Today, he created two turtles swimming out of a small sand pile. He took a photo, a reminder not to duplicate the piece. Then he left his art behind for people to admire before the sea came to claim the sand back again.
Her bones lay on the beach, rusting under sun and sea. Long had she sailed across the waters until that fateful night had brought her to this grave. Wedged keel in sand, hull full of water, tilting to port side, going nowhere.
She had become scrap and a new home for seagulls. Sinking further into the sand, waves rocked her still and she slept, dreaming of days out in the ocean with a crew scampering upon her decks.
Years later, she awoke to a new job; a sight-seers’ object. To be admired and wondered over. Hands touched what only the sea had done and life came back into the old bones once more.
We took our normal boxing day family walk on the beach and thankfully it wasn’t raining. The sky was cloud covered, the wind blustery and spraying sea water at us. We were huddled in coats and boots, not looking like we were enjoying things expect for Banshee the dog.
‘Grandfather! Look at this!’ Tod’s voice called above the crashing waves.
He came over with a large triangle shape of shinny rock.
‘It’s a Neolithic arrow head! A great find!’ my dad said.
‘And there’s more over there!’
We went over and discovered a treasure hoard washed up on the beach.
I laughed when I first heard the stories; a island full of pigs that liked to swim in the sea? It was a mad man’s fantasy!
To prove it, my husband took me out there. We sat in the boat, waiting and I giggled every now and then, of course we weren’t going to see pigs swimming in the sea, there was more chance of seeing them flying!
Then from the tree covered shore they come, down onto the yellow sand and into the blue sea, pigs of every colour and size, swimming towards us!
Everyone flocked to the yellow sands and blue waters as the sun blazed in the sky and the air became stifled with heat. Being in the waves cooled people and pets off whilst giving them a break from normal life. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal as rain arrived once again.
Britney looked around the beach. It seemed everyone in the world was here and the noise was so loud Britney couldn’t hear the sea! Leaving her husband sleeping and the children learning to surfboard, she found an empty cafe on the promenaded.
The hottest day of the year, everyone crowd to the coast. Beaches full of families all enjoying the English summer.
Voices rose and fell, a constant noise like the sea waves. People cooled off in the sea, napped on the sand or walked the promenade. Dogs were barking as they chases balls and each other. Seagulls called and eyed up the food on offer. Music was playing from the pier; rides of the children and gambling games for the adults.
Under the shelter of the sun umbrella, I watched the scene, marvelling at everything.
Tears blurred my vision. I wiped them away hard and told myself to stop crying. It was too hard to, so I shut my eyes and dragged in some deep breathes.
A strong breeze blew, sweeping the salty smell of the sea and also some spray towards me. The marram grass whipped up and began bruising my ankles and legs, almost as if it as trying to stop me.
I hugged the urn hard and carried on walking. My feet sank into dry sand and kicked up as I walked. Before I reached the lapping waves, I slipped my shoes off. Barefooted, I walked into the sea and felt the cold water rising past my knees.
I give up with wiping the tears away and looked around to make sure I was alone. It was passed 5:30 AM and no one was here on the little beach. This place had been my dog, Teddy’s favourite walk. He had loved jumping into the sea and swimming out to catch a ball. He had enjoyed digging holes and been fascinated by crabs and jellyfish on the beach.
There was a feeling a rightness to set him to rest here.
It didn’t have to be done quickly, but I knew I’d changed my mind otherwise. I unscrewed the lid and tipped the urn slowly. Grey ash rushed out and vanished into the waves. I dropped the lid and the urn then dropped down, the sea came up to my shoulders.
Tears and grief swamped me. I couldn’t move, only stay sitting in the sea with the waves splashing against me.