Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

Happiness is a Beach

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on a stony beach at a place called Tankerton on the North Kent coast. The sky was almost cloudless and you could see all the way across the estuary to Essex. I had taken my shoes and socks off and was letting the tiny waves break over my toes. I picked up stones and grooved over them. So pretty, so interesting, what with the spodgy patterns and the swirly patterns and the layers of colour and the glazes and- in the case of the flints- the glassy blackness at their core. After a while I got tired of admiring them and started shying them at a piece of floating driftwood. I don't think I ever hit it, but I came close and, as the little explosions rocked it, I imagined that it was a Napoleonic man o'war and I was a shore battery. Kersplosh! kersplosh!
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.