On Sunday I woke up with an urgent need to see the sea, walk on the beach and dig my toes into the sand. It had been a while.. My hair needed washing but since I was hoping  to swim too it didn’t matter. 

I grabbed a big green woollen sweater I’d put aside for the charity shop and filled a blue flask with wild orange tea.  It is June and English summers are unpredictable.  I pushed everything into my yellow rucksack.

My little red car is more or less roadworthy –still being held together with sticky tape and cable ties while I wait for the insurance company to agree to pay the damage done by a third party three weeks ago.

Halfway into the 30 mile journey, I saw an elderly man dressed as a court jester at the side of the road.  He was stooped, carrying a guitar and wearing a 3 cornered hat and a multi-coloured scarf.  He was trying to hitch a lift but no-one was stopping.

I drove past him and pulled over.

His name was Ray – “as in Sunshine” he told me.  The car rattled along and he refused to put on his seatbelt which meant the alarm kept beeping.  He told me his sister owned the fabric shop in the next town and I should go there and buy the African fabric because he could see I like colour.  I smiled and nodded.  I told him I had only stopped to offer him a ride because he had a guitar. 

“Ahh yes, the guitar always works a treat when I am travelling in France” he mused.  “Although I haven’t been over there for 35 years”.

He asked to be dropped off at a small church a couple of miles down the road so that he could say his prayers.  “It’s been a while..”

I drove on alone, smiling. 

Arrived at the secret beach and parked my battered car on the road.  It was blustery and the sea was wild.  There was no-one around.  Seagulls swooped over the sea markers that look like eery lampshades. One photo-bombed my picture and turned the lamp into a flag.

I paddled at the edge of the water but did not swim because the tide was going out in a hurry and I felt sure I would be swept to France without a witness.  (And I doubted my newfound friend, Ray, would be there any time soon to rescue me). Instead, I found 3 pretty shells to take home before climbing onto the cliffs to drink my tea.

I was very glad of the green jumper.  As I drove home I decided to keep it.

‘Life is what you make it’ by TalkTalk played on the radio and I sang along.