For those that don’t live in the luxury of such close proximity to the sea allow me to share some of the ocean’s majesty. Last weekend I was looking out over a mill pond calm ocean at this time, so flat it looked like you could walk on it. At the end of this week the east coast has had a wintry turn and there is nothing that reminds you of the strength of the ocean better than a windy day. Despite being a sun lover I watched enthralled as the ocean was whipped into a viscous and unforgiving frenzy last night.
Near horizontal winds howling along the front gave the perfect opportunity to meet neighbours in the alleys and side roads that criss-cross the town. The brown, foaming waves spent the night smashing over the promenade, tearing at mans rude inclusion in their path. For me this mornings view is the first one of winter. There are no tourists on the beach, indeed no people at all since the dog walkers have not yet ventured out. The sand that is so gently lapped by summer seas is now bright and clean. Like some great industrial washing machine the ocean has hurled all of the beach around in a maelstrom of rage and cleaned every trace of the summer.
It is like nature is washing off the grime of the summer and refreshing itself. The sun is breaking over a much calmer see and there is little witness of the fury which whipped such waves up overnight. But there in the middle of the beach, as if to warn us of its power, the ocean has deposited an enormous tree root. This is not the driftwood that you see in shops this is the root of some great tree. I like to think that, like a tired mother, this is natures way of telling us that if she ‘has to clean our room one more time’.
I apologise for this line which will mean little to most of you but is important nonetheless. Today’s value is 4363 because I slowed at the end of the week discipline, it would seem, is a must.
For the avoidance of doubt please be aware that some clothing is age limited, if you really insist on keeping certain articles they should be restricted to the privacy of your own home. Travelling today as a commuter on the public railway I saw two examples that led me to publish this advice, clearly it is not as common knowledge as I suspected.
The 40 year old woman who appeared to travel all of the way to London, the heart of commerce, in a baby-grow decorated as Tigger clearly had no concept of normal dress. I struggle with the whole concept of these all in one garments past the age of 8 months but as an adult? What was she thinking? If that wasn’t a wager then she must have been on day release. Its a shame that ‘Tigger’ didn’t travel with me to Hackney Wick where she could have met up with a 30 odd year old who chose to come as spiderman. I’m not joking, he had red leggings and an extra large red hoody resplendent with spider webs and spiders, even over the hood which he kept up, probably wisely. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was so overweight I would have been expecting him to spray webs from his wrist.
Is there a small percentage of the population that are incapable of maturing? That are forever stuck in the world of Barbie dolls and Action Men? Did they miss some key stage where everyone swapped from comics to newspapers? If that is the case then surely the manufacturers that are producing and retailing these over sized childrens outfits must be held accountable for drawing these social misfits into the public domain? If the government are seriously considering tax levies on high fat foods surely there is a strong case for a punitive tax on adult super hero outfits?
In other news I hear that Hertfordshire suffered very heavy snowfall over the weekend, I find the news oddly comforting. On the bitter east coast we have had a viciously powerful wind, as witnessed by the sand and seaweed distributed along the high street this morning, and this has prevented the snow from settling. Having spent all day Saturday watching snow travelling horizontally past my window I had been wondering where it would end up, logic told me that sooner or later there would be a solid object to stop its path, sorry Hertfordshire but hey someone had to have it.