Windswept with the sea salt air
The taste of vinegar lingering on our tongues
As we stroll along the creaking wooden boards
Arm in arm, passing zingy arcade games
And little cars on rails that pull the children in
With pound coin tokens from the booth
The cafe offers little warmth, but coffee
Draws us in and carrot cake or scones and jam
Watching woven waves come crashing in
Wondering where that charcoal ocean ends.
I have a real love of piers and every time I go to the seaside I insist on taking a walk down the pier. You just can’t beat the two pence tipping point machines, and the excitement you feel when twenty coins tumble into the tray at once.
I particularly enjoy piers on days when the weather is a bit rubbish. A couple of years ago, I went to Bournemouth in February and we took a walk down to the pier. We stood on the edge and watched the brave surfers who were covered in wetsuits, gloves and boots to keep them warm in the freezing water.
There is just something magical about not being able to see where the grey sea meets the sky, and hearing the waves crashing against the metal structure.
And of course, sitting on a bench, all wrapped up against the cold and eating fish and chips straight from the paper wrapper is just the best way to end the day.