My mother is not well enough to walk more than a few yards and is unable to go to the beach at Holme, as its too far to walk and the uneven ground too difficult to contend with, so this evening I took her on a surprise trip, so that she could be close to the sea without having to walk.
We drove along to the extreme east end of the promenade at Hunstanton and sat in the car watching the scene before us. It was an extremely high tide and huge waves were pounding the promenade wall and the spray cascaded like glitter, only yards away from where we sat in the car. Fulmars glided through blue skies and the majestic cliffs looked stunning on a perfect summer's evening. Rock Doves, Starlings and House Sparrows were also part of this idyllic scene. My mother enjoyed herself so much, that she penned her thoughts on paper:
Rage, Rage Against The Dying Of The Light
(Dylan Thomas)
"Rejoice in rare moments – embrace life for every minute of every day
The warm calm of a June evening mocked the potential destructiveness of a swollen tide beneath Hunstanton's cliffs. Fulmars sailed into the emptiness. Rock Doves sat in their private crevices – feathers, an unequalled turquoise sheen. Magic. Everything was magical.
The spray did its utmost to flood the seawall, but small dogs leapt up
to pick a fight with the showers of water, but man's defensive forces
prevailed. A young women recalled that she had not visited this watery
shrine since 1976 and how she was compelled to return.
As we motored home along the promenade, the cliff face was a mass of Kidney Vetch sprawling the chalkface like curdled eggs. Tufts of Sea Campion, Daisies and an insolent House Sparrow fell easy upon the eye along the fences' edge. Tomorrow presents another chance encounter, before the
tide weakens its hold."
By Margaret Rose Clarke
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