Tuesday Tiny Tale – A Breath of Fresh Air

‘One large rucksack containing the following;

One set of six keys, one bottle of water, one diary, one iPhone.

One yellow purse containing one note each of the following denominations – £20, £10, £5 and £7.23  in change, one Visa debit card in the name of Lottie Lincoln, six assorted membership cards, an assortment of coffee shop reward cards, one book of second class stamps with one stamp remaining and ten business style cards in the name of Lottie Lincoln, author.

One makeup bag with assorted toiletries, one facemask, one box of plasters, one packet of Ibuprofen, one large notebook, two pens, one large beach pebble, one copy of Big Issue magazine, one Mars bar and one tied plastic bag containing unknown substance.’

At this point Lottie could not resist interrupting.

‘That bag only contains plastic bags, you know, for the recycling bin at the Co Op.’

‘If you say so Madam, but I am not permitted to open it here, it will have to go to the lab for analysis.’

‘Well not just bags, any soft plastic, like those bits you peel off the food containers, you have to wash them of course, especially if it was fish…’

‘Can we just get on, I’m sure you don’t want to be detained any longer than necessary… one carry tray containing six plants…’

Primulas, someone was selling them from their front garden, just before I went down to the beach…. And why am I being detained, I only came out for a breath of fresh air and a newspaper, I certainly did not expect this.’

‘Do you often pop out to buy a paper with a heavy rucksack equipped for an expedition?’

‘Hardly that, you should see what I take on a proper expedition. No, I just like to be prepared. So why have I been arrested?’

‘Why were you taking photographs in a restricted area?’

‘Oh, was that sign for real, how exciting, I wondered why that part of the beach was fenced off. I’m new in the area. I was just taking photos for my blog, Literally Lottie.’

‘And how long have you belonged to the activist group?’

‘What activist group… oh you mean all those lovely people with the Save Our Seas posters? I had only just met them when you lot turned up. I can’t see what they have done wrong and certainly you have nothing to charge me with.’

‘Yes I do. Under the Coastal Protection Act 1949, the removal of any natural material such as sand and pebbles from public beaches in the UK is illegal.’

                

Sunday Seaside

It is that time of year when Bournemouth council, or more accurately BCP Council now ( Bournemouth, Christchurch and Poole ) tells us by how much our beach hut rent has gone up, with various explanations as to why. We were on the waiting list for six years and I guess most beach hut people will pay up rather than lose the six foot by six foot piece of concrete they rent. It’s best not to calculate the cost per minute of sitting in the sun, making a cup of tea or having your own private changing room. There are people who go every day, but most of us have other things to do, places to go and gardens looking accusingly at us. I had not visited since last year, though I have walked past to make sure it was still there. The council does not own our huts and how ever much we have paid, the hut is worth nothing if you can’t unlock it. Weather and salty air play havoc with padlocks, whether they have keys or a combination lock and pulling the shackle out can be as impossible as pulling Excalibur from the stone if you are not the future King Arthur.

Luckily I brought WD 40 from home. I have never known what WD 40 is actually made of, but I love the scent and apparently WD and duct tape are all you need to solve most DIY problems. There is a can of WD 40 in the beach hut, but that is not much use if you can’t get in… I used a lot of WD 40 and had to resort to going away to wash half a can of it off my hands then sneaking back, when the second padlock wasn’t looking, to open it.

When you walk down here it feels like being on holiday.

When you see your patch of sea you know it was worth the money and the struggles with the padlocks.

As the padlocks soak up WD 40 and you soak up the winter sun and eat your sandwiches you know it was worth it.

Then after two bites of your sandwich the weather changes, your tea gets cold and you wonder if your friends will regret saying they would ‘pop in’ for a cup of tea. This is why you keep blankets at the beach hut…

…but the sun will probably come out again before it goes down.

Silly Sunday Silly Shopping

Seaside locked? You could go shopping instead.
Seaside locked? You could go shopping instead.

Saunter through the gardens…

Perhaps stop at the cinema…

…or for coffee…

… but you better save time for shopping…
Don’t miss the arcade…

You could buy a book…

and stop for coffee and get some ideas on what to do with your old ladders.

But you must be getting on with your shopping – hmm looks like it’s closed.

This looks more hopeful.

Is this the fashion section?

Perhaps not.

Wonder what’s upstairs?

At least you get a good view… fashion must be on the next floor and perhaps the restaurant…

Whoops!

I think we must be in the art gallery…

That’s what I feel like doing with my feet.

That’s enough shopping for today.

Monday Madness

When one gate stays open..

Another gate stays closed

When your neighbours get a new front door.

When your neighbours build an extension with a penthouse aviary.

Look up…

Look down.

Heatwave brings return of The Triffids.

Macro Madness – guess what? Answers below, but not necessarily in the right order.

THE END

Beach Hut Tales

We are having a heatwave, bad for my garden, but perfect for being in the sea, except first you have to get to the beach or your beach hut…

Yesterday after writers’ group I decided to get on a bus and get off at Woodland Walk, which as its name suggests is a cool and pleasant walk from a busy road to the cliff top. As soon as I left the shade of the trees the heat hit me. I crunched across our toasted cliff top to approach my beach hut from the other direction to my usual walk from home.

The stone building is not a castle, but the toilet block by our beach huts.
The descent down the ravine, more fun going down than up.

The hot weather reminded me of last year when my daughter-in-law sent a clip of a beach hut on fire. I quickly ascertained it wasn’t our strip. Everyone was safe, but I imagine there wasn’t much left of the beach hut or its neighbours! Gas rings, flapping curtains and wooden huts are a recipe for disaster perhaps. In the local paper the owner was quoted ’my nephew came to fetch me and said Aunty I think the beach hut is on fire… ’ hmm, my suspicious mind wondered what the boy might have been up to..

I fully expect that one day calamity will strike my hut, either one of the regular cliff falls or a cliff fire in scorching weather. But other dramas also occur. I am now a member of that group ’widows who sit in beach huts.’ There are three of us in my little strip and it is only recently I heard the stories of the other two ladies, widowed a good while. We were all chatting when the most senior said to the other ’I don’t think you were here back then when my husband died.’

‘Oh yes I was,’ she replied ’I remember doing CPR on him on the beach hut floor!’

Beach Hut Drama

On Valentine’s night February 2014 Britain had a huge storm, not dramatic compared with world disasters, but several people were killed and the walls of our brick house shook. In the morning the storm was still raging and tales emerged of dramas; the public were warned to stay away from coastal areas, so I looked up the time of high tide, 9am and told Cyberspouse we must walk to the cliff top. We could lean straight into the howling wind coming off the sea, safe from being blown off the cliff, but as we peered over the edge we had a shock.


Beach huts were reduced to matchsticks and heavy gas bottles blown along the promenade. Naturally I insisted to Cyberspouse that we go down, along with other sightseers. Beach hut owners were shocked to see their huts no longer existed and searched the wreckage for any belongings they could salvage. Of course losing your home is far worse than a little wooden box and easy to say as our hut, further along and on an upper level was fine! The owners who had lost beach huts certainly did not look happy. But I had an idea for a story, what would happen to anyone down on the promenade that night? my idea even became the start of my novel ’At The Seaside Nobody Hears You Scream.’ Read more about the novel on my About page.

Beach Boxes

Winter walk on the promenade.

An Australian visitor once commented ’Why would you go to the beach and sit in a wooden box.’ Fair comment, though we hope to sit outside it in the sun, it is good to retreat into if it rains or gets very windy. jThere has been unexpected blogger interest in beach huts. They are all different, no that’s not true, rows and rows of identical huts all the same size, though interiors can be very creative. our huts have no facilities except callor gas rings, perfect for mulled wine at Christmas.

When we first moved here the late Cyberspouse was at work and thought he would ring up the council and ask for a beach hut. He was told there was a six year waiting list and we did wait six years! It was worth it if you consider that had we not gone on the list we would not have got one at all. He liked to cycle there after work and have some peace and quiet – if I wasn’t there…


Beach Lodges with kitchen, toilet, shower and sleeping for six. Rent from the council for mid week or weekend stays. I can’t tell you how much, that would depend on the date and I couldn’t negotiate the website, though I gather you have to be quick.

Next time – beach hut drama!