Sunday, September 17, 2006


Play-related journey to Spurn Point, the three and a half mile sandy stretch of land where the River Humber meets the North Sea. Desolate place, constantly battered by the elements but, today, very pleasant and calm. Full, as it always is, of freaky twitchers trying to spot Marmora's Warblers amid the seagulls and seaweed inbetween walking three abreast down the too-narrow single lane road with an attitude that suggests that they have the right of way over a Toyota Yaris because they wear camouflage shorts, are carrying an obtrusive and ridiculously large pair of binoculars and haven't washed their hairy legs for weeks. The last time I was here it was late autumn and it was a much scarier environment - you felt that at any moment the Point could be carved from the mainland by a crashing wave and you'd be forced to become an RNLI crew member to work your passage home. Today there were also poor unfortunate children who had been forced to accompany their fathers for a spot of fishing - daddies were having a great time as their kids sat on the sand bored shitless, wondering why this seaside didn't have any amusements, deck chairs or ice cream.

Listening: Joni Mitchell - Case of You

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