Scolt Head

Miscalculation
With the tide in mind and another hot day in the offing I got straight up and out and cycled to Norton where I left my bike behind a hedge like I used to when I was little and set off across the fields, marsh and creek to the island. It always feels a bit Famous Five. I headed straight inland to check out the orchids ... bee orchids out and pyramidal on their way. Then across to the sea and in for a dip. I knew I didn’t have long and luckily put in my markers https://www.blipfoto.com/entry/2752634726291343317
Even though I thought I was erring on the side of caution, with a good hour spare (or, so I thought) my markers seemed to disappear quick. I paid heed and headed back across the island to see the creek side shimmering. I suddenly panicked and quickened my pace realising my maths and time reading is as bad as it ever was. Luckily I had been cautious in the first place as it had given me a margin of error and I just managed to cross the creek in time and get to the safe side of the marsh. I haven’t been that close for many years.
Safely of on the ‘right’ side I collected some samphire and walked along the sea bank back to retrieve my bike and cycled through to Burnham Market where I bought a fish cake and some more asparagus from Gurneys and took out a second mortgage for a coffee and almond croissant at the deli to fortify my cycle back.
Then after a long cold drink I weeded the veg bed and then did some tidying at the front which was good timing because K passed and we had a chance to introduce one another and have a chat. She and her husband have moved into her mother’s house that is at the end. We both knew of each other because her mum and my parents both bought their houses when this group were built. It became a small close-knit group but her mum is now in her 90’s in a home near the other daughter and so K and her husband have been able to move here from the midlands somewhere. It’s so good that they have been able to work this out and can continue to work from here. I feel really chuffed that it isn’t going the way of my parents place. K’s mum was so good to us when P was ill and she let us stay there one Christmas that she was away and so we could see my family but have somewhere restful to stay.

Anyway, I can’t go to the island without posting from the Moored Man as usual...

Moored Man: Making the Island - Kevin Crossley-Holland

Why?
Because it welled up - a single keen wave
out of the flatcalm of his mind.

He squelched and splashed north.
He waded out
a mile and more
up to his thighs, his hips.

Why?
To see felicity.

On the hazy bar he began.
With both feet he scratched and scraped
like a wild sea-cat covering its faeces,
until his ankles were bloody and raw.

Then he kicked. He kicked.

Why?
So the Polar reach
would end in his ears.

The gravel flew and dropped,
it swarmed and swirled like chaff
in the murky water.
Longshore drift did the rest.
Pebbles and grit swam
and settled in new stations.
They rose above themselves
out of the water.

Schschschhh-huh!
Soft echoes in the cavern of his mouth.

Time and wind.

A shining cap of sand!
Sea-kale, tugging at its roots.
Sea-holly, growing beautiful
as it grows old.

Sss-sk! Sss-sk!
He strikes sounds on his sandpaper tongue.
Sss-sk! Tt! Tt!

The sun draws its blade
over his welling land.

Why?
Because it was not there.

He stares at his island
and knows he is beautiful.