The seaside is fascinating, but whenever I try to write about it I’m in danger of sounding like a middle-class critic on BBC2.
I found one of my A-level poems a few months back, simply called Bank Holiday. It tells the story of my love of the coast well enough. Not really a poem, just a description. Here is a verse.
Crablines and shrimp nets probe the shore.
A boy takes a rusty hook and a string from his coat.
He jabs the hook through a crust
Crabs are enticed, shuffling from under rocks
As sand swirls and settles in the rockpool
Local boys, quite outnumbered,
Eye the daytrippers warily.
They dive from pointed rocks and dart like eels
In silent challenge.