Saturday, 29 June 2013

The actual beach from my childhood! (from here)
I miss the seaside.

I grew up on the coast of Norfolk, a five minute walk to the nearest beach. Summer holidays were spent frolicking on the sand and very occasionally, in the sea. Bucket and spades were hung off bike handles as my friends and I gathered to spend the day at the beach. We'd come home, tired from all the sea air, rosy-cheeked from the wind, covered head to toe in dried salt and sand, content and smiley.

My mum and I used to go for walks along the beach, with our rabbit and cat in tow (they would just follow us...). I would swear I could see France, she would laugh at me.

I sipped my first taste of alcohol and kissed my first boy.

Now, I live an hour and a half drive from the coast. Which isn't too bad I know, but its just not the same. Trips have to be planned, you cant guarantee the weather. If I wake up to glorious sunshine, I cant just nip there, there are other considerations (petrol, other plans, etc etc). Equally, if a trip to the seaside is planned, inevitably the weather will be less than desirable but we have to go anyway because its been planned.

I miss the smell of salt, the sounds of waves breaking on the shore, the freedom I associate with being on the beach. I even miss rainy days at the beach, when wellies, scarves and raincoats are more favourable than sandals, swimming costumes and sun hats.

I like to think that one day, I will end up back living by the sea. It is my happy place, where I feel at home and where I feel I can most be myself.


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