29th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

Still chilly and damp. The sky like a rumpled grey duvet. The sun, tousled haired trying to pull itself out of bed but not succeeding. People move about but quietly as if in a dream. A young man with a tiny spiky dog. The dog has decided it does not want to walk with the young man and wishes to go anywhere but where directed or attach itself to anyone but who is on the other end of the lead.

From 29th January 2022

Lumpy grey and slate coloured clouds rolling and jostling and occasionally allowing the sun to peep though and project luminous puddles onto the rippled green sea. The waves boom and hiss comfortingly. The wind, confused as ever has moved round to the West and is quite cold. Later the sun finds a longer time to shine through and the light and warmth glares up brilliantly from the bay. A dunnock joins the pre-spring chorus with its sweet melody. #Bournemouth #WestCliff #winter #january


From 29th January 2016

Luxury is being inside whilst the wind rattles the windows and the rain chatters against the glass. But to be outside... to be in amongst the pines and hear the roaring of the gale and taste the spindrift carried up from the surf below. To feel the cold drizzle whipping against your cheeks. To feel breathless as you're bowled helplessly along before the gusts. To be part of it all is to be alive.


From 29th January 2011

A clock provides a reassuring heartbeat to a house. With my old longcase ticking in the hall my flat has become my home.

Peter John Cooper

Poet, Playwright and Podcaster from Bournemouth, UK.

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30th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth

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28th January from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth