I love the sea in all of its permutations: the wild and grey coast of my childhood where my grandparents would take us on beach trips from our caravan holiday in the New Forest, the playful seas of my adult trips to see family in Greece, where the water always seems impossibly blue and tiny black fish swim about my body. It’s my element. Nothing makes me feel cleaner than a dip in the sea, nothing clears my head so fast.
I always come out exhausted, but in a good way. Or I should say – I’m always coaxed out exhausted, I could stay in the water forever.
The sea at Camber was far too cold even for me but as I stood atop of the dunes and stared down at the enormous expanse of sand and that sea so far off in the distance, I couldn’t help but feel soothed. It’s so big. It makes me feel small, again in a good way. It makes me happy.
The dog loves it too. Oh, she won’t go in – she’s too much of a lady to roughhouse in water – but she grinned from floppy grey ear to floppy grey ear as she ran across the beach, kicking up trails of sand in her wake. She dug holes almost as big as she is, and sat in them. Best of all, she made funny little growling noises, and bowed, asking me to chase her and play. She so rarely plays.
Staying opposite the beach gave us the chance to visit almost every day of our five-day stay. We explored it at high sun and at sunset, took a left turn and a right. We introduced the twins to sand (not as yummy as it looks!) and ran with our Josephine-dog, and held hands to climb the dunes in case one of us slipped whilst babywearing. And all the while that gorgeous expanse of water roared in our ears and the wind tugged at our hair and it was lovely.
And I took many, many pictures that I want to share.
If you enjoy reading Goblin Child, please consider nominating us in the MAD Blog Awards. We probably fit the Baby, Writing and Photography categories the best.