Once the weather begins to warm up, and sometimes even sooner, you can usually find me in our caravan on the Suffolk coast. I love almost everything about this place. I love the wide open skies of cerulean blue, punctuated with clouds, white and fluffy, or trailing wispy mares' tails; heavy with rain, and at night, black as pitch, unfettered by light pollution, with layer upon layer of stars, like tiny pin pricks of light shining through black sugar paper. And sometimes you'll even catch sight of a shooting star if you look hard and long enough.
I love the light, the pale golden sands, the dunes edged with spiky marram grasses and the roar of the sea. And around the corner, I love the harbour, lined on both sides of the estuary with black fishermen's huts, and the chink of lines, the call of the seabirds and squeals of excited children catching crabs.
I love the little blue and white kiosk in front of the lifeboat museum, which sells ice creams and hot bacon baps with brown sauce. I love the Adnams pubs, where old maritime flags are nailed to the ceilings, and huge maps yellow with age and vintage nautical prints adorn the walls. I love how everyone in this place loves dogs, and has time to stop and chat and exchange dog stories whilst being licked and clawed by Polly my naughty Cockapoo. I love the soft gentle brogue of the locals, friendly and unhurried.
If you ever go to Southwold in the Summer and you can't spot me on the beach or in the pubs (The Lord Nelson and The Harbour Inn are my favourites), you might find me browsing through the charity shops - on the hunt for old china or the latest thriller, or checking out the sale rails in Seasalt or The White Stuff. I might be having lunch in the courtyard outside the Adnams Brewery shop, eating half a pint of shrimps or a fish platter, with a woollen blanket on my lap if it's chilly. If it's a lovely day, look for me on the benches which skirt the path overlooking the promenade or by the Sailors' Reading Rooms, where I might be reading, or eating chips. I might be walking along the water's edge, looking out to sea and trying to pretend I don't need a wee. Or strolling along the tideline looking for pretty stones or shells - my favourites are the smooth ones that fit perfectly inside my clenched palm, which I keep in pockets of jackets and coats to remind me of this place when I am far away. And if I am in none of these places, go to the reception of the Caravan site and look around you, and you might just catch sight of me, sitting in my deck chair, looking like a darker haired version of Miss Marple, with my crochet hook and brightly coloured balls of wool, watching the world go by. Although if I am there, I will probably spot you first.
Aside from home, this is my favourite place in the world, and when I am here, it feels very much like my home, although with much less of everything. We have no electricity, just solar powered lamps which provide sufficient light to read or play cards; no water, although there is a tap just outside the caravan, and a chemical portaloo to be used in the case of emergencies. Life here is so much simpler; the shelves are full of books, there is always plenty of wool, and the radio occasionally works. But we have no wifi, no TV or Netflix, and at present there isn't even anywhere to charge a phone. This is the place where I find it easiest to write, without distractions to halt the flow of words. I can immerse myself in different worlds without having to return to reality where meals need cooking, the washing needs bringing in, or there's yet another parcel delivery from Amazon requiring a signature. I walk everywhere, and don't even miss the car. I trek into town each day and buy whatever I fancy for tea, the only restriction being the capacity of my red spotty rucksack. My thoughts are uninterrupted and I am inspired by my surroundings, and I always return home brown as a berry, not because the sun always shines there (believe me, it doesn't) but because I spend most of my time outside. This year, towards the end of August, there were bad storms, resulting in sleepless nights for me, as a storm in a caravan seems more like a storm on a boat out in the middle of the ocean. The sea was wild and savage, and I regretted leaving my coat at home, but cobwebs were blown away and I felt invigorated. Mr C says when the weather is good, there is no better place on earth and as usual, I disagree with him. Even when it's blowing a hooly and raining cats and dogs, I still think you would struggle to find anywhere finer.
This year was very different, with some of my favourite places not yet open after Lockdown, and a few pubs operating a takeaway service. There was the bizarre sight of a huge cruise ship moored just off the beach ( see picture number eight above) and sunbathers on the beach who were mostly socially distanced. But really the place where the change was most apparent was on the caravan site itself, where 24 hour portable toilets and showers had been installed, to be used alongside the usual toilet and shower blocks, which were only accessible during office hours, and restricted for use by one family at a time. The temporary toilets were better than those you might find at a music festival, but only just. We invested in a jar of Vicks and slathered it liberally under our noses before every toilet trip in an attempt to camouflage the dreadful smell. The showers were fine once they warmed up, but everything was just a bit harder and a bit less pleasant than it usually is. And it was the same in the shops - having to queue up outside and wait for everything made it a less pleasurable experience, and one which I tended to avoid if I could help it. But needs must and I appreciate that I was one of the lucky ones, to have a holiday by the sea, knowing that so many people were less fortunate.
The Great Lockdown Hair Experiments - no shampoo and no hair dye, have come to an end! The results were interesting; I missed the smell of shampoo too much to go without it forever, and although my hair only looked totally dreadful for the first six weeks or so, it just never looked fabulous. Of course that didn't matter during Lockdown, but it's not a forever look. I also came to the conclusion that my hair has changed as I have aged, and looks like old granny hair when it is long.
After a spot of googling, I found a style which I hoped might suit, and when Amy the hairdresser arrived, she cut it short and added a couple of lighter streaks at the front. Opinions are divided; Mr C loves it, T asked if I thought I looked like a boy, which I took to mean that she thought so. In fact that was the reason why I have worn it long for so many years; I always felt as if I looked like a boy with short hair. L said that I looked like her granny (who is no relation to me, but well into her seventies), and then like Karen, whoever she is. From some angles I can see Claire Balding, (for example in the picture on the right) but usually I like it.
Running News Who'd have thunk it, I have a sports' Injury! I haven't been able to run for over a month due to sore lumps appearing just above my ankles on both legs. Diagnosed by Dr C as achilles tendinitis, and by Singapore Sal as 'cankles'. I have spoken to a qualified doctor too, who agrees with Mr C. I am doing some 'weirdass dancing' according to the kids, otherwise known as physio exercises and will probably have to restart the couch to 5k again once it eases. There are many possible causes - poor running style (tick), cheap running shoes (tick), being overweight (tick) to name a few. I am missing running and worried that I will lose my fitness, but I fully intend to get back to it as soon as I can.
Writing News - I have been writing my second book by hand (due to lack of power at the caravan) and if my calculations are right, I seem to be approaching 40k words, a little under halfway. I really enjoyed putting pen to paper, with no emails, social media or google to lead me astray. As always, the book is morphing into a very different story from the one I set out to write, and has a working title of 'Chatterbox'. Sadly I have had a couple more rejections from agents, so need to go back to the drawing board to try to find 'the one'.
Covid News - I have been randomly selected to take part in a study which tests whether I have antibodies. The test should arrive in the post and needs a spot of my blood and should deliver the results within a few minutes. A member of our household has also developed a cough and cold, and has been incredibly grumpy at being confined to barracks for two days following a test on Wednesday in the car park of Northampton University. She received a text at lunchtime today (Friday) advising her that the results were unclear and she needed to take another test. She said 'Oh God, it's just like English GCSE all over again. Only I could fail a Covid Test'. But apparently not, the guy at the test centre, when we returned, this time without an appointment, said that it had happened to lots of people. I also took a test, as I too have developed a new cough, and we will hopefully have the results in 24 to 48 hours. I was impressed with the set up, it was quick and relatively easy, and surprisingly we were the only people there. We had to register our details online when we got home, entering a bar code number which will match up with our swabs. We did the test ourselves, and it was much easier doing it in the car, using mirrors (rear view, not external side mirrors!) than it had been with the first test which was done as a walk in. Keeping our fingers crossed that all will be well and that it will turn out to just be a cough and a cold, and won't spread any further. And if you hear screaming in the Moulton vicinity this weekend, it will either be coming from offspring number one who is currently on day three of isolation and doesn't cope well with solitary, or from the other two offspring who have been forced to cancel their weekend plans and are holding number one entirely responsible. Stay safe people.
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