Tuesday, 22 June 2010

Wild roses are growing along the beach, pink and white valerian and yellow sea poppies.
I sat and watched a lavender-lilac sunset as the sun went down in a squiggle of molten metal.
On Saturday night I went to bed with a hot water bottle and it was only meanness that stopped me turning the heating on. A brown sea was smashing in waves on the horsebridge. Ever noticed how wet the sea looks when it's brown-grey? Wind hurt my ears.
Call this June? grumbled the walkers and the beach-hut mums.

Today, we're baking in a heatwave.
Today, of course, I'm back in London. Thinking of that same turquoise, sparkly sea and a tide that has just turned and will be lapping up the beach until 9pm.

Typical. English. Summer.

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