Sandcastles in the sky!

As the mist came down on a mild Cornish dawn,I reflected that it was of that kind in the annals of my childhood,it was that I chose to ignore those dank weather signals.These mists descend like the downwards glissando along the keys of the ivories.Feeling the emotional texture of this mist around Boscastle and Tintagel,I felt it’s silent conversations,like hidden voices in a Dickensian alley way in Mile End.People there yesterday,holidaying ,getting away ,the city folk down from the North and the midlands to sample the sea air in the last half term before the Winter gets in.

From along the coasts,the detritus of recent high tides have left their mark,their calling cards a plenty.Their flood boards in place ,because it’s a way of life down here,and the mist hides the sheer breathe of the tidal surges that penetrate the landscape ,talking to us ,telling it how it is.This is the landscape of the North Cornish coast,it’s spl it personality as such,and it takes no prisoners..Just a few weeks ago,the hinterland hosted the families on their summer holidays,with their memories of warm sunning days as they retreated the soles of their feet into the rock pools of their future.At Trebarwith strand,Bossiney bay and Crackington haven it was fun for all the family.Now,those families reside elsewhereon this septered Isle,dreaming maybe of their summer holiday in Cornwall.

As I visited my dear sister in hospital yesterday ,up against it now,I remembered Sunday afternoons on the beach ,sandcastles in the skies of our imagination ,with our dreams and aspirations .My,that was decades ago,and now,a different set of children make sandcastles in the skies ,and the best of luck to them.

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