9th July from the West Cliff Green, Bournemouth
A shiny brown dog rushes through the undergrowth chasing pigeons and squirrels. A pigeon waits to the last minute and takes of with a flutter of wings and sending up a shower of dried leaves. The dog, astonished screeches to a halt and sits back on its haunches. “Has he ever caught one?” I ask the owner. “No and he wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did.” The air is humid after overnight rain and where the green hedges are covered in drops of moisture the air is almost steaming. But, despite the heat, the sun only occasionally manages to force its way through the bubbly grey clouds. Visitors on the beach are well spread out and some look lonely and forlorn. The green rope hanging in the trees has acquired a stick tied to the end and a swing suspended from two blue cords has appeared. Buttereflies are everywhere on the clifftop and, as well as the gatekeepers, there is a flock of large whites hunting through the brambles. The pigeons are distant and their wails add to a feeling of uncertainty about the day. Pigeons continue to coo.
From 9th July 2022
On the corner of the path where the gnats dance in the strong rays of the evening light, a great cloud of gnats are dancing. Exactly what gnats are , or why they dance, I cannot tell but like JB Morton's Cabman they dance and dance and dance. The beach is still crowded and little curls of smoke from barbecues form that blue haze that is so characteristic of the beach on a summer's evening. Visitors in their ones and twos are beginning to leave. Towels and rugs are shaken vigorously and folded. Crying children are swept up and the slow procession up the Zig Zag begins. A jet-ski sketches a white chalk stripe across the barely ruffled mid blue bay. Seagulls stake out the rubbish bins waiting for a tasty supper. In the shade of a clump of pines there is a large picnic in celebration of someone's birthday. The 30th according to the swaying, bumping helium balloons. A greenfinch fills the air with its ridicuklous song before settling down for the night. #bournemouth #westcliffgreen #summer #evening #July
From 9th July 2021
The early sunlight slants warmly through the trees making deep, dark shadows on the soft carpet of pine needles. A guy in a check shirt is sitting hunched on a bench with a cigarette in one hand and a can in the other. We nod briefly to each other. The sea is barely ruffled by the slight fresh breeze. To the West everything seems blue, the sea, the sky, the distant hills picked out by the golden sliver of sand in an arc and tiny brilliant white clusters of buildings at Sandbanks and reflecting the bright chalk stacks of Old Harry further round. To the East, under the steadily climbing sun, the sea is sheet of polished silver. A man in shorts is taking his dog for a walk. Exactly that. He walks quickly round the West Cliff with a poodle under his arm.
