Enjoyed a blissfully relaxing weekend with my darling offspring at the family’s secluded rural bolt-hole at the other end of the island.
Yes, OK, it’s a caravan, but if one ignores that fact, together with the woodgrain-effect décor and 1970s-style velour furnishings, it’s actually rather cosy and delightful, and a perfect base for muddy adventures, being less than a minute’s walk from the beach.
We arrived at midday on Saturday, to catch the high tide for a bit of swimming and indolent lounging around in the glorious sunshine.
More scenes of erosion and ruined pillboxes in the pics below. The one in the sea was only just toppling when I first started visiting the island a couple of decades ago. Now it’s 30 feet from the cliffs on which it once stood.
Here’s my new best friend – my children’s cousins’ puppy.
In the evening we nipped over to a fantastic party in a specially erected tee-pee village at the far side of Fen Farm. Lovely people, delicious food and fireworks too.
Then back to the caravan, put SD3 to bed, and watched The Commitments with SDs 1 and 2. How many times have I seen that film? 20? 30? It’s one of my ultimate feel-good movies. It ticks absolutely all the boxes. And that night it ticked even more, because it had party-mum here singin’ along, too. Lucky it (Not).
Here’s a clip:
Oh, how can I post just one clip? Here’s another one. (I seriously, deeply love this film!!)
Following which excesses, I left the younger ones in the responsible hands of SD1 and nipped down to the beach with the dog at midnight, for a splash along the still-warm surf at high tide. A clear, balmy, brightly starlit night, but I didn’t meet another soul. How much we miss when we close the curtains and turn inwards instead of venturing out one last time.
Lay awake for ages, listening to the sea and the Labrador’s nocturnal gruntings . . .
6 comments:
I''m with you on The Commitments, Juliet. What a truly fantastic film.
And as for a Labrador's nocturnal gruntings, yes, know them well - I have them in triplicate here.
Me Commitmentophile too, 'Imelda Quirke's arse coming down the ladder', and my constant mantra to the cobrador, 'Oim black, and oim proud of it'.
Interesting Tollesbury connection warning - one-time owner of the smack Charlotte Ellen (soon to be re-launched after a complete rebuild at Woodup)and allround good guy , Souter Harris, was one of the associate directors.
D - Lab-grunting is actually quite a comforting sound. My late, great springers were noisier. And some humans of my acquaintance are considerably worse!
G - The degrees of separation between *anything/one* and Tollesbury are few, it seems. Maybe it's actually the centre of the known universe!
Hi J -
What a great bunch of posts. I loved the church history and lore you provided on St. Peter's, a post or two back (meant to say so at the time) and this one is a treat too. I like the look of that dog. You are really very photogenic yourself.
Wot! You ventured down East - and stayed in a caravan! This East/West divide must be greater than I realized. Your dear Readers do know that you could actually walk here?
K - Hi - thanks for kind words.
T - Ha ha, of course they do! Some people have a picturesque beach hut, we have a caravan! It's my in-laws' really, they used to holiday on Mersea in the 60s and 70s but kept it on when they eventually retired to West Mersea.
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