I explained in a previous blog that I am easing off with my typing at present, owing to tingly fingers. I don’t want to let things grind to a halt, so I am writing a short one now. Following a routine check up at my health centre, I am attempting to tweak my lifestyle in a small but positive fashion. Today I go to Seaham to walk along the sea shore.
Cliff top view
…Vroom vroom… Leaving the city behind, I bring my car to a halt on the cliff top car park. Grunt… grunt… I’m out of the seat and hear the door close with a satisfying clunk. A couple of key presses and it is locked. I stride over the grass to the edge of the cliff and pause to take a pic, looking north. This is where I intend to walk.
I take my time getting down the steep cement steps leading to the beach. It feels good at the bottom, as if I have entered another world. Civilisation is up there, behind the cliff face somewhere. Here, there is just me and the sea. Of course, there are the inevitable dogwalkers too. The tide is out and I walk onto some rocks near the water’s edge. They are like stepping stones, fringed with a green lace seaweed. Getting out on these rocks and hopping across dry patches of sand takes me closer and closer to the foaming surf and removes me from the beach and even from the frollicking dogs. The boundaries of my personal space bubble dissolve and blend into the cloudy sky and the frothing foam of the breakers. I am supposed to be walking for exercise, yet I am drawn to squatting upon a rock in silent contemplation. I sniff the salt air and head back to the sandy beach.
Waves rolling in at Seaham
I am walking into the wind and the going underfoot is as squaggy as it is squelchy. My boots are definitely up to it, but I make a mental note to purchase a fine pair of wellies; after all, a lifestyle tweak deserves the proper equipment and clothing. I shift up the beach slightly to avoid wet pools of sand and get on to the pebbles. There is no other sound like that of trudging on a loose pebble beach; my thoughts are immediately swept back to my childhood and Felixtowe beach. I reach the rocks that lie at the foot of the next headland and decide to turn back. I have the wind behind me now and this makes the going much easier.
Stones at low tide Seaham
I pause to look at the pattern made by a series of large stones half-buried in the wet sand. I take a pic. I might use it for wallpaper on my laptop. I reach the steep steps and start to climb back up the cliff. By the time I reach the top I am panting hard. If I do this on a fairly regular basis, I shall be able to take these steps in my stride, literally, in future. I take off my old leather bomber jacket and get into the car. I am still breathing hard from the climb. I open both windows and savour the breeze. Then I put the key in the ignition, fire up the engine, and pootle off home. The adventure took an hour. I am glad I did it. When I get home, I put on some potatoes to boil. I prepare a plate of lean meat and quarter a tomato. I listen to the radio while the potatoes finish cooking, then dish them up. Today, there will be no butter melting in droplets down their cut cliff faces. I treat myself to a boiled beetroot; if one can’t have salt, one might as well have a bit of colour. I enjoy my lunch. I feel as though I am off to a good start. Speak to you later, my dear blogophiles.
John's Quavering Pencil 
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