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Wednesday 25 June 2014

Oh, I don't like to be beside the seaside.....

W. H. Auden wrote:

"when I try to imagine a faultless love 
Or the life to come, what I hear is the murmur 
Of underground streams, what I see is a limestone landscape."


If I was invited to rewrite the lines with my own 'special place' I would have to supplant 'murmur of underground streams' with 'crunch of wavelets on shingle' and 'limestone landscape' with 'empty coastline'. So I wonder if it because I love the sea and coastal landscapes so much that I find 'the seaside' so unsatisfactory? It is a bland pastiche, a suburbanised version of the coast. Like other places of coralled entertainment, such as a football stadium or New Year's eve, the seaside has developed strange ritualised behaviours. Today, in Benllech, a small seaside resort situated at the northern end of Anglesey's beautiful Red Wharf Bay, there was enough of ritual being played out to keep any amateur anthropologist entertained for the afternoon.
1. Chilly breeze - what chilly breeze?

Between the 'sunny periods' strollers became only too aware of the biting northerly which sliced across the wide bay.

We'd taken 'sensible precautions'. donning fleecy hooded jackets to ward-off hyperthermia
Fellow holidaymakers were built of sterner stuff. The beach was populated by brisk dog walkers, not one was wearing a jacket , and most were striding boldly through the wind-chill  in thin tee-shirts and beach shorts. Why? Because mid-June with clear blue sky = holiday wardrobe whatever the weather. We have observed the opposite behaviour in the Mediterranean at Easter. In Italy particulaly, it might be a stunningly sunny, 25 degrees, but children are still swaddled in scarves and oddly pneumatic looking quilted jackets; Grandma is still showing-off her fur jacket, and it's only tourists from the north, Dutch, German, British who are mad enough to be in shorts and tee-shirts or likely to risk a dip in the pool. I have a theory that there must be some little understood local custom - like the way cappucino is regarded as dangerous to the digestive system if consumed after 11am - that governs the moment when it is ok for Italians to don summer clothes - it could be a saint's day - May 25th, St Magdelena de Pazzi - that might be it. Anyway, what this all goes to show is that culture rather than nature governs social mores.

Talking of which, there's the question of beach shelters and the BPKSS. This latter behaviour affects only British males between 21 and 35 years of age, and though observable generally, is especially prevalent amongst younger family men. Giving the phenomena its full nomlaclature: 'Bare Pectoral Kneecap Swagger Syndrome' it manifests itself thus.The young family man, on arrival at the sea front car park, gets out of the car, stretches in a distinctly primate manner, and then, weather conditions notwithstanding, removes his top. This gesture immediately affects his gait, swinging  knees, elbows and chest outwards, chin upwards like a battleship prow, he affects a machismo swagger; garish tattoos assist the effect of manly assertion, irrespective of girth. Head of the family status can be futher underlined by tucking some sundry item of beach equipment under the arm, the more ridiculous the object the greater the status, giant inflatable ducks or lime-green li-los in the shape of a manically grinning crocodiles are especially effective.

Then there is the question of beach shelters. Some photographic evidence is called for here:


Displayed in all their stripy glory, the traditional Brtish windbreak, then on the left the continetal, more recent interloper - the beach shelter. Now beach shelters are simply not going to hack it in the UK, partly because they are really parasols with poles, designed to enable scantily clad beach babes to shelter from the searing Mediterranean sun. They entirely miss the point of the native grown windbreak. Firstly it provides a substantial barrier against the constant freezing cold blast that is euphemistically called a 'sea breeze'. Secondly they are tall enough to shelter those of us who regard sunbathing as a trifle left-field and prefer to sit primly on a folding chair with our noses in a book. Most importantly, however, they allow the British family to stake-out territory both literally and figuratively, so mimimising contact with neighbours and protecting that most precious of British values - privacy.

So, imagine the sound of the seaside - the gentle hiss of waves on sand, the cry of gulls, the chime of an ice-cream van in the car park and the slightly random thud of rubber mallets on wood as scores of British families drive poles deep into the damp sand, each admiring the sea-view safely esconced behind 'nylon curtains' safe from prying eyes.

A walk along the coast paths of Cornwall or Wales will reveal the natural beauty of our coastline, but if you want to learn a little of the curious character and habits of the islanders who live there, then a couple of hours at the seaside might well be a good starting point, that is if you can see anything beyond the wall of windbreaks.

Five things I really liked about Anglesey

1. It looks like Brittany...

Gill and I have a tendency to scoot off to the Med at the drop of a hat. However, closer to home, we have a real soft spot for Brittany. It was the first place abroad that we visited together, and when the kids were small we had some really great 'bucket and spade' summer holidays there - it is somewhere I envisage we will always return to. Anglesey, however, looks incredibly similar, particularly when you follow the narrower lanes around the coast, there is just something about the modern white-washed houses, the low rolling hills, the rocky inlets and sweeping sandy bays that reminds you of particular patches of the Breton coast. The advantage is..it's a tad less than three hours from our front door, even trundling along in Maisy at a steady 55mph.

Like the Crozon Peninsula (apart from the mountain in the background)

Like the area just to the east of St Malo (apart from the mountains in the background)

Like one of the inlets from the Gulf of Morbihan...honest!

2. Beaumaris -  friendly, charming and stylish in an old fashioned way...

Nice small pier

Overlooking Snowdonia

We had lunch at the cafe across the road - good food, chaotic service!


Fine castle


with somewhat truncated ramparts....


Gill with a gill, a somewhat eccentric alternative to a milk jug.


3. Newborough Forest

The estuary-side cycleway verges, covered with wild flowers

Lovely woodland walks

Wild carrot?

4. Penmon Lighthouse

Ok, it's not exactly Point de Raz, but it has stripes, a bell that regularly goes dong, in a dull metalic tone and, much to Gill's delight, a stepped shingle bank that has a satisfyingly pebbly scrunch as the waves break on it. The short clip below celebrates all these little excitements, as well as containing a snippet of conversation concerning dock leaves and other sundry maritime flora....




5. Kingsbridge Camp Site

A very blue 'green' campsite
As you might have gathered from previous posts, a favourite rant of mine concerns British campsites (overpriced, bungaloid, over-controlled...etc), and British campers... It would be great to say that the above site was not full of middle aged caravanners with a penchant for reading the Daily Mail a tad too publicly  (personally, I  have no issue with other people's taste for smutty reading matter, I just feel, in the interests of good neighbourliness, it would be better if they indulged unsalubrious predelictions in private). Sadly, UKIP man was out in force.

However, one cannot blame the campsite owners for the character of their clientelle, and I have to say, in every other respect Kingsbridge was a really great place to stay. Quiet, clean to the point of gleaming, with friendly, helpful owners, who were efficient but inconspicious. I really appreciated their efforts  to be 'green' minded, something that has earned them a 'David Bellamy gold award' for conservation. Well done! Their website homepage contains the following stap-line: "We believe in working with nature to minimise our impact on the environment, we care for the land we use for all to enjoy." Nice to see that, instead of some fatuous, David Brent inspired gobbledigook concerning quality or meeting customers needs.

So there you have it, I've found somewhere to stay that I'd look forward to returning to and its even north of Calais.....perhaps it's English campsites that get on my nerves...maybe Wales is the way to go....

A short clip of Kingsbridge life, birds tweeting away, and a particularly fatuous conversation regarding the question of whether feet should be included in any BBQ related footage.






Saturday 21 June 2014

Smug Alert

During one of the more unpleasant shenanigans which surrounded the takeover of the college where I used to work, one of my newly acquired colleagues decided to share her initial impression of me, "You seem quite smug" she advised me.

After I had recovered from a fairly feral reaction at her impertinence, I attempted to considered her remark in a more objective light. In the course of a twenty year career in senior management, the chances are that most forms of abuse have been hurled at you at one time or another. And indeed, I have been accused of all kinds of unpleasant things over the years, many  no doubt deserved. No one, however, had ever accused me of smugness. This interested me.  Perhaps it was intended as a complement, with retirement looming maybe I should have taken it on board as a characteristic to be worked towards, an aspiration, something for the bucket list.   

Today has been one of those rare, perfect June days when the British  weather failed to disappoint. Wall to wall blue - without mysteriously becoming pallid and muggy; perfectly still - without a sharp sea breeze blowing in suddenly mid-afternoon to get people huddled behind windbreaks agreeing that it had indeed been prescient to pack a cardigan. A fellow camper passed by   and commented, "I couldn't get used to this, not  a cloud in the sky." I took this as mild irony and replied brightly, "it's like the Dordogne in Wales!" He stared at me somewhat bemused, I don't think he'd ever heard of the Dordogne; moreover, I realised he was being perfectly serious, he really did consider the weather too good to be true, and a bit of a let down as there was nothing to moan about to oil the wheels of phatic grumbling. Funny lot the English.

But I'm proving my continental credentials here: the weather is fabulous, the van great, the electric bikes inspired purchases, whisking us as they did along he coast road, beside the deep blue Menai Straights with Snowdonia in the background bathed in golden sunlight; this evening's BBQ was yummy ( cooked up on the Cadac -another inspired purchase!); my nearest and dearest is looking happy and relaxed ('all good', as she says).....

I feel odd, a little peculiar, out of sorts, what can it be?

Blimey! I've done it..... I'm finally feeling smug.....

The van is great.....



The bikes are great...



The weather is great...



smug alert!!!!!

Nearby Elsewhere

It's proved trickier than we had anticipated to get away for short breaks in the van. Even though now having both retired there are still demands on our time that keep us at home. Laura finished her last A level yesterday. Disappearing for days at a time would hardly have counted as proper moral support for the dear soul, aside from the fact that I was providing her taxi service to college.  It's a somewhat salutary thought that almost 23 years have elapsed since our eldest started school, and Laura only finished sixth form yesterday. A bit of a milestone for  parents as well as the kids, especially as we have had one or more offspring being adolescent for the past 14 years, phew! No wonder we feel its time for a break!

And our promised long trip is not some distant pipe dream - it's coming up, we have a possible start date - 27th September, less than three months hence. A few things happening between now and then: a three week trip to the USA starting next week; Gill's Dad's 90th Birthday party to organise, A level results day (eek!); Laura to organise to get her to Greenwich University (hopefully), and, I almost forgot, I have a 20,000 word dissertation to write for the MA I thought would provide a challenge in my retirement. It has....I'm really looking forward now to being profoundly unchallenged.

Today though, I care not a jot about any of it. We've escaped for two nights to Anglesey, the weather is gorgeous, the scenery is gorgeous, the enormous awning, recently repaired at enormous expense is stretched out perfectly, and I'm stretched out imperfectly beneath it - bliss!

Proving Giff-Gaff lets you connect...anywhere!

The path towards Newborough Forest, Anglesey.
More forest paths

Electic bikes - yay!

BBQ time.