Well this will be a very short post because it's that dreaded time of year...The School Holidays. Of course, whilst I relish the idea of not doing The School Run, I'm still Mrs T's Taxi Service running my Terrible Trio in my deadly Cmax all over the place. Our summer vacation to Ireland approaches too so I'm vaguely thinking about packing some stuff but as usual I will endeavour to leave it to the very last moment just so I can remember what the word "excitement" means. "Excitement" usually means a giant sized bar of Cadburys these days but the stress of packing which always nearly brings Mr T and I to blows is always good for letting out a little bit of pent up frustration. At the moment I'm trying to figure out how to get Mr T's fishing rods into a 4x4 sq inch space. Fortunately, I have a rather good idea; it may involve a mallet or possibly a small chainsaw. Who knows, I'm feeling daring today...maybe both!
Well I had some sad new on Monday from my home town of Weston Super Mare. Yes, that's right Mrs T was raised in the birthplace of John Cleese and Monty Python. Hmm... maybe that explains some things? On the other hand the delightful Jeffery Archer comes from Weston too - the only thing I have in common with Jeffrey is our political aspirations...to rule the world by fair means or foul! However, I don't think anyone could accuse me of ever telling enough porkies so that I end up behind bars like Mr Archer; I am 100% honest and never prone to lying or the slightest exaggeration.
Well back to the sad news... The Pier at Weston has burnt down. The fire was apparently started by a deep fat fryer early Monday morning and within a short time the building was ablaze and the pictures making headline news across the UK. ( I'd like to point out at this juncture I don't have a deep fat fryer for this very reason - I have way too many cooking problems without potential explosive electrical devices lying wantonly around) Anyhow, having spent many years wandering the seafront, strolling the beach, feeling the surf splashing on my face and the wind gusting through my hair and and gazing across to the Welsh coastline I shall miss The Old Girl. She was a grade II listed building and a feature of the coastline I will always remember with affection... especially in more recent years where I have revisted it with my children and played silly games, sat astride the ghost train and enjoyed overpriced ice creams. I suppose in time it will be rebuilt..but I guess it will never be the same again.
Life moves on.. every time I go back to Weston it has changed and expanded until in recent years it is almost a hinterland of Bristol. The Seafront, home to the second highest tide in the world, and with it's Victorian Hotels and sandy beaches was the one thing that had remained fairly constant and now with the death of The Old Girl my only attachment left is my mother who still resides there. Our family home was sold a few years ago and my mother now has an apartment looking out to the sea. It was a good move for her and I have no regrets.. but one day I reckon I'll move back to the coast.. probably not Weston though.. .so I can feel, once again, the sea breeze on my face and hair, the taste of salt in the air, watch the fierce waves crashing upon the promenade and rejoice in the cries of seagulls as they soar in the dull grey skies.
And when the holiday makers have gone, I'll know that this is once again England, my England.
Copyright Jane Turley 2008