Makes me want to quote poetry, but not the version I should do. The one I remember from childhood is
“I must go down to the sea again
To the lonely sea and the sky
I left my socks and knickers there
I wonder if they’re dry…”
It’s the word ‘must’ that sticks with me all those years later in the proper version as well because the sea was that for me long before I came to live close to it and is that for me now I can walk to it every day. Not an ‘I want to’ Not a ‘wouldn’t it be nice’ but ‘must.’ I think everyone has a special place where their mind, body and soul seem to somehow reset until they can be their best self again. Or I hope they do, because I think it’s vital for good mental and physical health. For some people it’s a concert, for some it’s a night out with friends. For some it’s home, and I do love that sensation when the doors are locked for the night, the curtains are drawn and everyone I love is home and safe. What can I say? Some of us are homebodies who love cooking and sewing and playing house. It makes me happy (and my family too when I cook) and it doesn’t make anyone else unhappy so I’ll go my way and hope you enjoy going yours.
The feeling I get when I cross the road to Harbourside Park and go up a little hill and get my first glimpse of the sea is better still. This summer they’ve been building new segregated cycle and walking paths and I’m surprised by how much I’ve struggled without the quiet and with the cyclists who don’t seem able to comprehend the words ‘pedestrians have priority.’ But all that is done now and there’s a new flat surface for me to walk on, which is vital on those days where my joints are not being cooperative. The birds have come back, especially the swallows who’ll soon be heading for Aftica and the new pedestrian path is wide and there’s room for everyone so I can relax into my walk without being expected to leap out of a cyclist’s way because they’ve rung bells at me and shouted rude words when I can’t (or won’t) move as fast as they want me to. I wouldn’t mind as much if they said ‘thanks’ but a lot of them don’t.
Not that it matters any more because they have their path and we walkers and dog walkers have ours and I can slow down and watch the boats and the birds and the sea and feel the stress oozing out of me to be replaced by awe and gratitude for being able to walk to such an amazing place.. and then walk home again!
It always amuses me that one of the most expensive property locations in the world looks out across… you guessed it. Harbourside park. I live on the infinitely less well-known and less posh Peninsula where I can walk to the sea on two sides in twenty minutes, to the shops in ten minutes, to a hospital in five minutes, to a swimming pool or gorgeous park in fifteen minutes. My roads don’t get anything like as clogged up and most of all, I have Harbourside, complete with little beaches I can have all to myself even in the height of summer.
And now the diggers have gone so it’s mine again, and I am happy, happy, happy. Soon the Brent Geese will arrive and the migrating birds will use it as an overwintering stop off and the winds will blow and I will wrap up warm and enjoy the quiet while I think and dream and sew.
Today though I shall sit in the sunshine and watch the boats and the birds and finish embroidering the quilt I’ve been doing all summer because right now I do need to stop halfway through my walk. I'm getting steadily better though, so by the time the tourists go home I shall be able to walk further and longer. Till then, what better way to spend time can there be than to sit in the sunshine and sew and dream and plan and just be me… And then I’ll go home and write and try to capture that feeling of belonging and peace in my cosy romances.
So here’s ‘my’ view where today I finished embroidering Amy’s crazy quilt. Now all I’ve got to do is join the pieces together and you’ll be able to see it and understand a little about the plot for her next book which’ll be out in less than 3 weeks time.
Where’s your special place?
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