SEA FEVER

As a child, the seaside was a place of wonder and delight where my family holidayed for a fortnight each summer.
Throughout my life I have retained the sense of excitement and fascination that those early excursions provoked.
The north-east coast of Ireland has some of the finest beaches in Europe and the journey from Belfast, by way of the spectacular Antrim Coast Road, is a joy to any traveller.
On the small island of Guernsey, by contrast, the sea is never far away and its proximity to our home at Bordeaux ensures that, when sea fever overcomes me, I am only two minutes away from the beach.
Standing by the sea wall at high tide on a bright morning, sunlight reflecting on the water, brightly-coloured fishing-boats bobbing in the foreground and the neighbouring islands of Herm and Jethou on the horizon, is a truly uplifting experience.

TO THE SEA


These early autumn mornings, bright
as summer,
catch me, wakefully,
prowling the house while still you sleep,
your face turned from the windowpane,
east-facing,
where sunlight flows in.
Wrapped in surrealistic dreams,
you hardly stir as I collect
essentials: glasses, mobile phone,
slip on a coat
then step outdoors
to marvel at a morning sky
that, in its endlessness, astounds.
A sea breeze summons me.
The wild,
entrancing, 
so alluring sea
awaits my morning presence there,
where wave meets wave
then slips away
from granite wall,
from foot-worn steps.
I picture you then, sleeping still:
a child again, immersed in warmth,
and wonder what unknowable
oceans of strangeness
lap your dreams,
then draw my snug coat collar up
and stride out lightly
towards the shore,
my spirits rising, soaring free
as swallows do, effortlessly.