Nothing to Say

 

So here is a picture of the seaside.

 

 

Sunny Sunday

Because of the heat we need to be beside the seaside.  

Of course I am not!

Instead today I had to hobble to Kirk in the great heat once again, about 76% at the time.  This was acceptable I suppose, a normal summer in the UK today.  

Church was enjoyable today.  Marina massaged my neck for a minute, Matt told me the tale of his wife, and I felt welcomed and part of the place, which is always nice.  A service which was unusual, intended mainly for kids, almost none of whom were to be seen.  The weather has taken many out, the summer holidays has a few still trying to cross over into France at Dover, and others will be sunning themselves in downmarket Espana.  This did not matter, we all enjoy the kids things more than they do anyway.  The leader today was not used to the job, he prefers to stay at the back like me, he took us through the 'Lords Prayer,' bit by bit and once again I was struck by the need to forgive all those many enemies of mine, avoid temptation (sorry Morag you must leave), and recollect how he offered me strength to obey and follow him many years ago.  

Why have I failed so badly to do this?  Tsk!

Revived sufficiently by a mug of tea and an argument with Gordon, who was meant to be washing the mugs, I once again trekked along the road in the increasing heat.  I forgave, eventually, a driver leaving the petrol station who refused to see me and almost got me.  I avoided the temptation of reaching for the sub-machine gun US style, and made it home for a bacon roll.  

Lunch time on a Sunday is often glorious like this.

There was also a mediocre football match on display, which I was forced to watch while I pondered furiously what to scribble tonight.  Nothing came.

  

I spent some few minutes posting once more on the new blog, concerning my late brothers time in RAF Sharjah during 1970/71.  These featured a holiday jaunt into the desert of Muscat to recognise the world they were defending.  Here RAF mechanics managed to get one of the Land Rovers waterlogged!  Britain need not fear!

Interestingly, or not as the case may be, after all that sunshine I see from my position, seated in my bed staring out the window while tapping on the spare (Win11) laptop that the rain clouds are gathering.  Does this mean summer is over for another year? 

Maybe I need a different kind of hat this week....?    

The Sea! The Sea! As the Greeks said...

It's possible a Greek or two were wandering about when we landed on one of Europe's best beaches.  It ought to be best as they spend vast sums dredging up sand and piling it on to keep the beach in good condition, they succeed well.  Here we see one of the growing dunes that are being manufactured, the majority have grass planted to bind them together and lower the risk of the tide sweeping them away and the result is a more natural beach, natural if you remember much of it is dredged form somewhere out there.

  
Bournemouth beach on a Wednesday morning is one of the safest around.  Flags fly to indicate safe places to swim, large huts contain lifeguards sitting on watch, dogs are allowed but in parts restricted, security prowl looking for those who wish others harm. All in all they work hard to ensure a safe day out and it works well in my view.

The wind offered an opportunity for those who like sailing yet few were to be seen from here.  The cloud to our left allowed some sun to appear to our right where the 'Old Harry' rocks are situated.  The sea meanwhile gave different shades of light to us and I failed to capture the 'silvery sea' in front of me.  The settings wrong again!   Bah!

After inhaling all the sea breeze we could and discussing great affairs (she was back indoors scared of the sea so conversation could be deep and satisfying) it was decided to head upwards and get the view from on top of the cliffs.  

A great view of the sweep of the bay from Old Harry rocks to the far end at Hengisbury Head, a place she indoors will not let us travel as it's too windy.  On the beach we could not see these four yachts trailing one another yet up here all sorts of things appear in front of us.

What was he carrying as he jogged along the sand?  Such running is good for the fitness but in what looks like a wetsuit and carrying a deflated banana of huge proportions?  Maybe his dog was well ahead of him?

This one made several attempts to put out to sea but appeared to get no further than fifty yards before returning to shore.  Quite what he intended I was not sure but he did not go far.  It is not uncommon for people to row canoes (Kayaks?) around the British Isles but it is hard work in the seas round the coast.  In some ways I understand this, we all wish to do something rather daft that exercises the body, I cycled from Edinburgh to London once (once!) in 1974 at around fifty miles a day.  Not bad for someone who did not have a bike until a few weeks beforehand, rather stupid now of course!  The adventure of doing something physical and unusual is within us all, even though it is often daft!  I hope he makes it.

Behind us stood a long row of houses developed to take advantage of the view.  Some dated a little like this one (I will take a penthouse please), others replacing 1930's houses with modern three story blocks of wide windowed apartments costing just over a million each.  Down on Sandbanks where the rich live a modern home on the front could set you back five or six million, unless you wanted a big one.  Personally I prefer this block to the modern sleek trendy minimalist offerings.  I would wish for a home not a cold austere trendy flat, that is not a home just something to show off to others. 
My wishes of course make no difference, neither are coming my way nor I suspect will they come yours.  The view is great however and it is free to walk along the front inspecting where the ground has slipped away or sit and cogitate while gulls fly over the head and a Kestrel hovers over the cliff seeking lunch.  We saw one hover and suddenly swoop down below but we did not see him rise up again.  I wonder if he got fed or is still there chomping away?

    
This area was quite quiet while we sat and pondered but down below every 250 yards or so sat small pockets of people, usually a couple of women and a huddle of children, near the water and chucking down sandwiches in between enjoying the beach.  With the holidays round the corner it is clear that this area will be a mass of people doing similar and I will be happily above on the cliff rather than down there in that throng on that day.

These Scots thistles get everywhere, you see it is a fact of life that without Scotland or Scots this world would not work!  I er, will not attend church today in case any racist comments and or bottle throwing erupt during the service as comments regarding last nights result might be considered provocative....

We scurried home for lunch stopping only at the gorgeous Poole Bay!  Here those who stand on surf boards armed only with a sail learn to develop their hobby in the knowledge that this water is less than two feet deep.  In the distance sits Poole Harbour, which along with Christchurch at the other end of the bay have been the only workable harbours here since the Iron age, that's from around 500 BC until today.  Bournemouth itself was no use to anyone bringing goods ashore as these two places provided the harbour for the area, it being fear of Napoleonic invasion and the occasional smuggler that led some to seek the Militia to defend the beaches against such invasion that brought the Bourne Mouth to prominence. Lewis Tregonwell, a captain in the militia secured this area and after his wife suffered depression when their child died they holidayed in the area.  They loved it so much they built a house in 1812 and moved in.  Knowing sea bathing had become the cure all for all sickness Tregonwell built large villas, for the rich, to indulge themselves while holidaying, secured his fortune and created Bournemouth.  Now it possesses almost 200,000 souls and combined with Poole, Christchurch etc, almost half a million live in the area.  Too crowded for me.

 Naturally the water means a great many live as they have done for generations on the water.  Quite what this one was doing was unclear but I suspect his boat gets more use than those that appear unloved around him.  It is not unusual to see such craft slowly die and disappear into the mud.  Cheaper than having them broken or removed I suppose but there again do they not pay mooring fees?

Having lunched, how nice to eat properly for a few days, we two returned to the front late in the afternoon.  This meant parking in the cheapest place and how attractive such car parks can be!  Several levels of concrete with millions of pounds worth of debt laden cars in buildings using cheap paint to keep costs down.  Few holiday here but it is clear why movie makers often find themselves in such places.

   
Walking though the gardens to the pier we saw something of the huge numbers of young folk who fill this town while attending the University or the many language schools.  Vast numbers filled the park, kicking balls about, shouting, chasing one another, or as here on the beach, posing so as to attract the girls.  We sat amongst the throng, something you realise we were not too keen on, people watching for a while.  How much better the view was from high up above the cliffs than sitting amongst so many people here at the centre of beach life.   While it is right folks ought to enjoy the beach, and it is a great beach, I wished it was November, then the beach would still be great but these folks would be elsewhere!

Like the gulls we were wondering 'who ate all the pies?'  Or was it 'who drank all the 'Stella?'

Did I explain I enjoy Bournemouth?  My spiritual mentor was there, and she just as important in this even though the phrase I mostly hear her say is 'Shut up!'  The beach, comfy bed, good food, the sea, the countryside, the castle and the variety of intriguing houses built by the wealthy over the years are a delight to me, especially as I have not been there with them for two years.  Enjoyment is the word to sum it up.  You will be glad I am off home now...

A Second day (well actually it is still the first...)

Climbing the Matterhorn meant that he and I had little enthusiasm for anything but lunch.  So it was off the beaten track to a beaten track at Hartland Moor where we scoffed lunch and rested bones.  This type of moor is somewhat bleak in my view, the purple stretches for miles into the hills in the far distance and small beasties crawl here and there but few birds fly by and in my mind there is no obvious beauty to be seen.  To observe that requires careful searching into the scrub to find the many insects that live here but at first sight I see it as somewhat bland.  This did not stop people, aged and with dogs, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing in similar fashion into the distance.  The road is quiet and apart from a selfish female cyclist who would not let us pass on the narrow road, he man moved aside, few other vehicles came that way.  A good place to stuff the face when the sun is shining.

Then it was time for the beach!

Raised in Edinburgh, a city that slopes down to the Firth of Forth, I love to be near the sea.  Growing up we often heard the deep long blast of the foghorn based on Inchkeith and often we could see the light from the accompanying lighthouse turning around.  The advancement (?) of lighting and creation of blocks of flats where my old school once horrified they surroundings would hinder both, if indeed foghorns actually sound thee days.  The smell of the sea and the light produced by the action of light bouncing of the water does lift the soul I say.  There is something about the closeness of the water, the end of land and the reaching out to whatever lies way over yonder that speaks to us in some way.  In times past few lived near the sea as it appeared dangerous, only sailors and fishermen would venture near, but today the majority love the sea, crowded beaches show that.
Naturally the woman of the party despises the seaside and prefers moorland and forest!  This is good however as we dumped her on a seat at the front knowing she would retreat to the car and sleep the day off.  We trekked on bravely.

Swanage is a small town in a bay which gathers an enormous number of visitors.  Possibly it is comparatively cheap, I suspect it is not that cheap to live here, but lots of UK visitors were noticed.  There again Bournemouth and possibly Swanage attract young folks to 'Language schools' and Bournemouth teems with such types and maybe there were some among the throng here.

We did not venture far, the break in the buildings ahead offered a seat and a 'Heritage centre,' a well run small and very well set out museum resplendent with history and well informed volunteer helpers.  I am very impressed with this place.  If collecting stones, those shiny things kids love is your thing this is the place to go, they have thousands, this is the 'Jurassic Coast' after all.

We sat listening to a group of men in English shirts informing the world around of their inability to hold their drink while we cogitated on the number of 'Fish & Chip' shops advertised or seen in the small square.  The Jewish man who apparently began selling chips with his fish in the 19th century did not realise he was introducing the UK's main lunch when he did so.  The pesky foreigners keep changing good old English attitudes and it really must stop!  By the way it was supposedly an Italian, one who had walked all the way from Italy, who late in the century introduced Scotland's first 'Chippy.'  When you consider how in the last fifty years the UK now eats Indian (often Bangladeshi actually) and Chinese (are we still banned from saying 'Chinky?') you see how the nations eating habits have developed with the introduction of foreign Johnnies into the country.
 I await the popularising of Middle Easter cuisine in similar fashion however that may be limited by cries of 'Islamic Terrorist!' every time you went in for a falafel.  The gulls however cared not what you ate just as long as you ensured they got their share.

The sun shone brightly but there was a haze limiting the sight of the Isle of Wight.  At times it was almost clear but rarely could we see the lower end.  The sea itself was somewhat rough as the wind roughened the tops of the waves while the tide came in our direction.  The sea is very much colder than it looks and those tempted into it discover this fooled by the warmth of the sun.

 
Surprisingly few yachts were out there and this was good weather for that kind of thing.  Were the owners all off making money in the city in this heat I wonder?  Few craft of any king out there while we meandered about and headed back via the shops.  Lots of small shops still surviving in spite of business rates and greedy councils but a lot of them were, shall we say, tatty?  Lots of pap on offer, ice cream and chips, not at the same time,  and all the other requirements of holiday makers and their kids in the sun filled cheery seaside.  I wondered where these people resided?  On returning we found our madame still sitting there, now people watching, now gossiping with strangers, very like her.  These strangers were holidaying nearby, were others doing the same?  Swanage does not appear to have many obvious 'Bed & Breakfast' places, maybe I juts did not look. 

Then it was time to sail the seven seas, or at least make use of the Sandbanks Ferry.  

Timing it to be just too late to board we waited in the sun while people clambered out of cars, avoiding the massive chains that keep the ferry stable, and photographed their surroundings.  The young men on their jet skis bouncing upon the waves somewhat carelessly were less interesting than the madman trying to reach France by paragliding there on wind power.  He would be lucky to make the other side, which he would not do if he ran into the ferry from Boulogne.  It amazes me when you see the size of the ships which enter this narrow channel into Poole Bay.  Huge ships arrive and park themselves way over the far side of the bay yet in other parts the water is only a few feet deep.  For several thousand years men in boats, from dug out canoes to car carrying ferries have deposited their loads here, one of the reasons Many folks have made use of the hill upon which we found Corfe Castle and where I must have left two stones of ugly somewhere on the way up.  

Brownsea Island, not somewhere I have been but maybe if we could walk further we might venture onto one day, not this week mind.  Fampusly owned by one woman, famous for the first Boy Scout Jamboree (girls allowed but no boys allowed in Girl Guides for some reason) and we watched the ferry (yet another) pull away from the Island and make of round the bay.  Maybe next year but I doubt his missus will be up for that!  The island is now another National Trust property.

The Sandbanks Ferry has been running since the 1920's, a fact which surprised me as I always thought it a Victorian achievement.  £4:50 gets the car across in a few minutes accompanied on occasions by the sound of someone aboard informing a yachtsman or sailboarder of their opinion regarding how close he could get to a moving ferry chain.  Most big boats work the passage well.  
If you ever have too much cash floating around pass it on to me and I will buy one of the flats where I will waste my life watching the ferry move back and forth day after day, that is how active my body wishes to be these days.  I note one available for a mere £950,000 which appears to me to be a bargain that must not be missed. 

In the distance Bournemouth towers above the cliffs while on the beach thousands frolic in the sun, we will be there tomorrow.  Just think, around 1850 nothing much but bracken and a small stream, the Bourne, had its collision with the sea here, known as the 'Bourne Mouth' the name has stuck but now from Christchurch at one end to Poole at the other how many thousands cram into this place day after day?
I do like it however.

Old Photos

Stupidity runs in our family.  I fear for my idiot nephew if he has inherited the genes that have caused s much distress in this world.  I mean I sat for some time tonight fretting that I could not get BBC Scotland to work properly on my laptop.  There are two options and neither worked.  It took me some time to realise that what I was looking for was not taking place.  I wanted the Scotland v Hungary match live and I was indeed in the right place for this it is just that this is Monday night and the game takes place on Tuesday!
This is not the first time I have not realised what day it is.  Indeed the clocks went forward on Sunday and as I awoke I heard the man on the radio give the time, I therefore rose and some time later realised all the clocks were an hour behind.  It took about an hour before I realised the clocks had gone forward and I didn't know.
I wonder if matron will keep me in this week...?  

I had to look out a photo for a friend, OK for an acquaintance, and found several somewhat dingy pictures taken at the beach one pink sky night many years ago.  I wonder if I used the 'Zorki 4' but I suspect this was the 'Zenit 'E'' that my brother gave me.  A wonderful camera which was dying long before I got my mitts on it.  However it gave me much fun and sometimes properly exposed pictures, and the results of our time at the seaside was good considering the pinkish twilight.  

Browsing old photos can be a daunting experience.  While many good memories and people appear there are also many faces, some long forgotten, who bring memories not always pleasant back to mind.  Long lost loves, I have hundreds, good people who have moved or passed on, good places now altered for ever and bad places that still haunt the mind.  One unfortunate aspect is the undeniable fact that this shows me forty years have passed and I have wasted much of that time, this is one of the problems of getting old.

 
Another problem is the old albums as they fall apart.  Glue used on pics dies and photos fall out, those plastic covers on some albums, the covers that are supposed to keep the pictures there for ever have faded and come lose and whenever the album is lifted several minutes pass as a search under the furniture for fallen pictures ensues.  Of course once they are all digitalised this will not be a problem, unless the 'delete' button is hit by mistake.
Right, now I have left a morose emotion in your head I will retire to contemplate my naval while seeking sleep.  I need sleep for my mind requires much input from nourishment and sleep these days.  

The Sea, The Sea! Well the Forth Anyway...

I had to dig out a couple of my brothers photos and now I want to be back in Cramond walking along the front looking at the bird life and the view of Fife over the water.  The one major problem with this town is that it is far from the water. 
There is nothing like the sea.  The light, even when the weather is towsy, is different.  The light bounces back and forth from water to sky and gives a new view of the world.  The sea air, always bracing if it is litter full and trapped in a gully, changes the view of life.  People appear happier walking by the sea, relax is the word that seasides bring, well not if accompanied by a thousand children obviously.
Up in Edinburgh for my mothers funeral eight years ago my brother and I wandered along the front after 'seeing the body.'  This was a relaxing way to consider the new situation.  Having known the area from Cramond right along to Granton Harbour it brought back many memories and we could see how things have changed, though most of the place looks similar to our memories.    
We learn how to enjoy the seaside as children.  This is passed on to a younger generation and on and on afterwards.  Few children fail to enjoy the sea.
In the past people feared the sea.  Men travelled over many miles to trade and explore in thousands of years past yet we still feared the sea while doing so.  Only those who fish or those who trade or explore would consider sea voyages a sensible idea.  However the need to see what lies over the sea is within many of us.  From dugout trees to super liners we want to travel the sea to get to the other side but while this is attractive the majority would rather sit by the sea and just enjoy it from the side.  Sometimes I think I can smell the see though this may be the drains of course.  Sometime soon I must get down to the coast and bore people with photos...

The Sea! The Sea! It's Wet...

Having arrived for a rest from my labours I was taken on a walk through a park, up the high Street crowded with heavy traffic and thousand's of people and then forced along the beach.  We started high up along the chine where seaside flats with large windows and enclosed balconies start at around £400,00 and with houses on the shore with views over Poole Harbour fetching between £3 and 10 million.  I will not be buying one.   

 
I was not only frogmarched along the shore but then forced to climb back up the chine the hard way - going upwards!  We took a shortcut (he said) to make it easier but I lost two stone in weight by the time we reached the top.  

The sand along here is well maintained. Earlier this year in was renewed as storms had taken much away and we watched a tractor pulling deep sand back from the stairs down to the beach, the tide has raised this several feet and his job was to pull it all back.  He soon gave up we noticed.  During the summer there are many guards on duty, strict control over the promenade, two cyclists who went through at the wrong times were fine £50 plus much more in costs for cycling at the wrong times, and huts are placed at various intervals for the many problems families bring with them, or children as they are known.  

We began our Matterhorn like ascent around here at the back of a somewhat grubby hotel.  Had we been able to continue we would have reached Sandbanks where the multi million pound houses are found but instead climbed to the mere million pound ones.  Flats here have wonderful views and are the last resting places of the wealthier type who retire here to waste the cash their children hoped they would inherit.  We were personally ignored by several of those. 

Poole Harbour, a lovely spot with water only a few feet deep for a long way out.  Usually you see people standing next to a boat far out but few were about this day.  In the middle of course the water is very deep and the Bologne Ferry passes by at regular intervals along side other large ships winding their way in.  The views here are magnificent, the weather always changeable but always offering a variety of sky to look at and wonder.  A very popular place to parade and only £2.5 million for a house, reasonable I say.  

This was to be the picture of us receiving oxygen from a passing paramedic crew but I considered it too unsavoury for tender hearts...

Break

Right, I am off to the seaside for a couple of days.  I have the promise of rain, wind, clouds, cold, rain and cold rain and more rain while there.  I told you it was Spring!   Back wet, cold, sick and there is a possibility I may be a wee bit grumpy, late on Thursday.
Don't break anything while I am gone.

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O Happy Week!

What a lovely Christmas time that was!  I was so happy I never thought about the missing laptop until I wanted to play around with the photos I'd taken.  Goodness gracious, who would have thunk it?  A whole week without reading the online Mail, grumpy folks on football forums, 
and spam merchants clogging up the web.  Wonderful!  Of course Mr Anonymous had left several thousand posts for me to remove but that has been done and the papers really don't need reading do they?  

I started on the Monday in the hope of missing much of the weekend traffic, and bar a pair of women gossiping behind me forcing the aged Walkman out of the bag the train was quite enjoyable.  Of course I had to change at the new interchange at Stratford and climb aboard the Jubilee line.  How long since I endured an underground journey I fail to remember but little appears to have changed.  Almost no English to be seen, which is not something to complain about, no smiling faces, no helpful gestures, no view out of the window after we left West Ham.  Glancing around I noted the majority no longer read newspapers, now it is ipads, tablets and the like.  My Walkman hid quietly at this point.  At Waterloo the one real problem was the daft idea to buy a coffee before boarding.  There I was suitcase in one hand, coffee in another, and no hand left to put the ticket through the gate!  A smiling lady employee used her key, rushed through, smiled and let me wait outside!  Grrrr!  However I managed to balance the £2.05p worth of coffee (worth about 15p actually) on the far side of the gate, maneuver the ticket into the slot and barge through without spilling anything.   

  

How lovely to stay in a clean house, warm, well fed, and not required to do anything but look out the very wide windows at the birdies squabbling among the feeders hanging in the garden.  The Robins, Blackbirds, Finches and Tits fed happily undisturbed, bar the intrusion of a Buzzard which spent an hour or two hiding in the corner until we decided it was better chased off.  Having found the garden empty on arrival, been fooled by a fluttering leaf to dive to the lawn the bird sneekily hid behind the garden shed and watched carefully through the windows at the feeders.  You may find it difficult to believe how enjoyable the garden scene is but I assure you he and I spent many an hour, with her grumbling in the background, discussing the activities of the feathered folks.  Of course it would have been better still if the sun had shown up a little more often, sulking behind clouds was it's major occupation most of the time. 

Can you see the Buzzard?

Some folks have difficulty finding one family, I have two!  How lucky to be able to find two families!  Not only that I get on with them.  I suppose I would not be there otherwise.  Work and poverty stopped me getting down there for years and it was a week of restful tender loving care - for me at least!  So much so that I spent hours watching the kind of TV I would normally abhor!  More than this I found myself enjoying what was on offer and getting involved with the hero's problems.  The feeble young Viking befriending the injured Dragon brought tears to my eyes.  Quite why he and the girl hero had American accents and the older Vikings Scots accents escaped us.  Do Americans not realise Vikings (who do not have horns on their helmets) come from Scandinavia   Look it up on the map!   So slouched on the couch, yet another mug of tea in hand, chocolates around, possibly home made fruitcake in hand, I passed the week amongst intelligent conversation and laughter.  Made a change from talking to myself.

A trip to Poole Bay to be blown away and around the corner to watch the ferry and sit admiring the view of the sea.  Gales of wind blowing folks hats from their heads while aboard the Swanage Ferry gave us a laugh.  The view gave us reason to sit and stare for a while.  There is something healing to the soul sitting and watching a view, either of the sea or the land.  Some wrongly call this 'spiritual,' what they mean in 'tranquil.'  We need deep inside to get away from the workshop or office, the sink or the routine and refresh the mind by sitting and just watching the almost still view.  Try it today!

The view of 'Old Harry,' the rocks at the far end of the bay from high above on Canford Cliffs was well worth a look.  'Old Harry' is the solitary rock sticking up at the end of the land in the centre of the top picture.  What a day to be there!  This has been a favourite view of mine since the day I first came here in the late 70's.  The beach below is clean sand, well controlled by the lifeguards, although only one dunderhead was actually swimming in the freezing water, and the long slow walk along the front is one I long to do once again, possibly next time.  

The view in the other direction, to the left gave a clear view of the Isle of Wight.  The chalk cliffs reflecting the sun.  Wonderful!  The flats behind us along Cliff Drive in Poole have this vista daily and I want it also.  Please lend me half a million and I'll pay it back  as soon as I can.    

Now I am back in the smelly home with a bagfull of dirty laundry. Rejoice, rejoice......   On the other hand I have dozens of the other photos to post, can you wait....?

I hope your Christmas week was a good as mine!

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