August 9th

It is a secret time here on the West Cliff Green. Just after the sun has burst into the sky and before the runners and dog walkers have emerged. In full daylight but with the benches still empty like some stage set at the beginning of a big play. The lights come up but, as yet the actors have not appeared and the audience memmbers are left to wonder what they are about to see; comedy or tragedy? Plenty of excitement or another, plodding day like the one before? But there is movement. Squirrels running up and down the rough bark of the pines. The small birds beginning their late summer chorus. The gulls, sweeping across the empty blue sky. The sea, planished and burnished like a piece of William Morris silver. One of the goats tears hungrily at blackberry shoots that project throgh the wire fence. The heat of the sun already making itself felt and the cool shadows under the pines.

From August 9th 2021

Puffs and rags of summer cloud smear across the blue sky making dark shadows chase across the bay. The sun is warm but the wind is strong. The sea is green and makes a big surfy splash on the beach.

Later

The West Cliff is deserted at this time of night. There is a steady, refreshing breeze and the sea rustles softly. The clouds have scattered enough for there to be a clear starfield above. On the distant horizon, even more distant lights reflect of a low swath of cloud.

From August 9th 2015

Walking along the clifftop path through the trees I suddenly felt something cold and wet on the back of my calf. And then something cold and wet on the other calf. I looked down and there were two dogs enjoying whatever it was that my calves had to offer. The dogs' owner was apologetic and said they had done it to a lady the day before. I said this was fine but suggested he fit them with some sort of warning device.