Just me and the sea, then
On my lunch yesterday I wandered down to the beach. Tide was in and it had been rainy and windy all morning but the sun was just starting to peep through. I’ll bring my brolly just in case, I thought, even though the strength of the wind would render it more a nuisance than anything.
I stood watching the waves come in, the sea very clear at this point in high tide. Dense swathes of seaweed were floating in a huge band right at the shore, some of it washing up onto the beach, some staying floating, some swapping over from beach to sea as the waves came in and out.
The huge amount of seaweed this year was a hot topic on the local Facebook groups. I walked on down to the beautiful Walpole tidal pool. Usually a bit of a busy spot with people swimming, hanging out, there’s even a mobile Sauna down there run by Haeckels. Today, a monday in mid september, I was the only soul there. Just me and the sea, listening to Off Menu podcast with Carol Voderman telling stories about her long boozy lunches with Richard Whiteley.
I stood and watched the waves, watched the seagulls picking over the beached seaweed, and over little flocks of smaller birds (not sure what they were) picking over seaweed as well. It was absolutely gorgeous and so peaceful.
in the interests of journalistic integrity I will admit that I just spied some other people in this picture, so I wasn’t totally alone the whole time!
Solitude in London was possible. Especially in Leafy North London, I could wander in the woodland and not really see many people, I could wander in the playing fields and adjust my path to avoid people I could see ahead. Maybe it’s still the lingering anxiety from the pandemic but I got so used to avoiding everyone, I think I just kept doing it. I always wanted peace and quiet on my walks, especially as they’d usually be taken during lunch or after work at previous jobs I had that were horribly stressful and demanding. If there were too many people or even LOUD people in general, they’d bother me a lot.
What was surprising about my walk yesterday was that it was a surprise to be alone. I wasn’t out there looking for solitude, it was just that I had found it. I have found it a lot coming here, very pleasantly. There’s something to be said for trading living in the largest Mega City on the European continent for a seaside town that not many have really heard of. Fewer people around, more time and space for peace.
All in all, it depends what you really want (what you really really want). London gives you excitement, opportunities, world class theatre (including the Spongebob Musical!), gigs, art exhibitions, museums, weird immersive monopoly game experiences, access to the most obscure bubble tea flavours you can think of, a huge transport infrastructure, trains going out to every corner of the UK and to bits of France, Belgium, and the Netherlands as well.
After a while though we both found we weren’t going to the theatre much, exhibitions weren’t temping us, and the idea of standing for 3 hours at a gig didn’t feel worth it. It felt like we were living with all this stuff on our doorstep, paying the extreme price associated with being so close to it, but we weren’t actually using it. London was like a fancy sandwich toaster, we’d paid for it, used it a few times but mostly it just sat in the cupboard gathering dust while we got on with our lives.
It’s windier today than yesterday, there’s more cloud cover and the sea is looking a little more fearsome. I’m sat watching the waves come in from our bay window, seagulls gliding around on the strong blustery winds, cargo ships moored out at the distance are waiting for their next instructions. Having this gorgeous coast in my everyday life is more exciting for me than seeing Gareth Gates as Squidward in the Spongebob Squarepants musical at the Southbank Centre. I know, it’s a bold statement, but it’s true.
