"I must go down to the Sea again" as John Masefield wrote. This morning the sea was definitely calling. I'd heard the weather forecast and the warnings about staying away from the coast, but "the call of the running tide" was irresistible! So I wrapped up warm, jammed a woolly hat down round my ears, and braved the wind and the rain. It was, truly, a magnificent sight. The sea was huge, and looked as if it was boiling. Massive waves were crashing on the shore, throwing up great clouds of misty spray and foam. In fact, there was a very watery sun shining for part of my walk, but everything else was grey. The clouds were so dark and so low, they blended with the sea, making the whole a wild, grey, wind-lashed sea-scape. Seagulls, looking like white dots and dashes silhouetted against the dark sky, were floating, wings outstretched, on the currents of wind. And I was almost the only one walking today - just one or two intrepid walkers scurried along, crunching over stones, shells and seaweed that had been thrown up onto the promenade by the high seas. It was precisely the scene that John Masefield had described in his Sea Song poem.. "the flung spray and the blown spume, and the seagulls cry...ing"
As I walked back home, I met up with the husband of one of my friends; he had a newspaper tucked under his arm, and was suitably wrapped up against the weather. He said that they were planning to go down for a look at high tide, despite the warnings! I may have to go down to the sea again too..