Christmas

Out of the blue - certainly out of a cold steely blue sky - I have been ill. It came on gradually, over the space of a couple of hours, until I sat shivering and aching and feeling very sorry for myself. I have slept a lot over the last couple of days and am past the worst. I have lost my voice - but who do I talk to anyway? - and it has left me weak and tired but mercifully I have all that I need here for my physical comfort. I shall neither starve nor freeze.

In fact, I have so much fuel that I could spare a forked branch of silver smooth driftwood and set it up in the corner. This morning I have tied strings of shells, pebbles and sea glass and hung then upon my "tree". In front, I have set a large church candle to light my creation as the light fades this afternoon.

I have a bottle here. I have re-corked and sealed it with wax. Inside is a message:

To Whoever finds this,

I hope that this finds you well and happy at
Christmas and that you will have a time of
peace and comfort. May the New Year bring
you only good things and the contentment
that you have been wanting.

With Love from
The Beachcomber

I will now take the bottle to the water's edge and cast it far into the waves.

Tied & Teased

Walking along the beach, feeling and hearing the crunch of shingle beneath my feet and letting my mind wander.

"Tied"

"Teased"

"Wet"

Smiling, walking and happily hard in the frosty sun

Unspeakably Wonderful

The day is unspeakably wonderful: blue skied and intricately white crisped and even the pebbles on the beach are frozen into a wide lacy bedspread.

I am poorly and spend my days by the stove, drinking tea, reading from a musty, broken-spined, leather bound book and, from time to time, taking up my old tin whistle and playing a lament for aching limbs and runny nose.

Even so, I cannot resist the lure of such a perfect morning and so I strip on the doorstep and walk out onto the frozen beach, spreading my arms to greet the brilliant sun for a moment t and then, laughing until I cough, I nip back into the warm room, dress quickly and put the kettle on again.

One of those times

I am having one of those times. It is one of those "What the fuck am I doing with my life?" times when my happiness proves to be bubble thin and simply bursts, leaving me exposed and, when I look inside myself and weigh myself in the balance, I am found wanting. I must not waste what I have.

I think that I am going stir-crazy here. I crunch across the frozen beach to break ice and collect water from the stream and so at least the kettle whistles contentedly on the stove. I try to find warming books to read: summer tales and stories of found happiness and human kindness. I think that I am searching for a happy ending.

It warms me so to see friends starting to find their own happiness but my pleasure is tinged with a little sadness when I start to cast over the days ahead of me and I know that nothing is likely to change.

There is peace to be found in this place. The stove warms me and I have good supplies of comforting wintry food. I can draw closer to the heat, wrap a blanket around me and dream of a life that is not mine.

One thought does emerge from my meditations; I will not waste what I have.

I think that I might surprise people.