As I sit here at the office desk in the early hours of Monday afternoon, the gentle buzz of life at Treyarnon is beginning to gather speed – a delivery van pulls up next to the beach store, another family hauls buckets, spades, towels and any other item you can imagine down to the golden sands of the Bay.  A seagull calls out as it catches it’s wings on the gentle breeze that trickles through the office window which I have broken ajar.  A tugboat is unusually close to the shore and I’m almost certain I can spot the silhouette of one, maybe two, fishermen hauling in their catch – with what success rate I could not tell you.  The water around them is a marbled turqoise and navy, the phenomenon of low tide revealing the seaweed cover rocks penetrating just below the surface.  Small white foamy waves tickle the base of the cliffs as if to announce their presence, the grass on top giggling in the breeze.

The blue expanse is limited not only to the ocean but also encapsulates miles and miles of the sky, which, without a single cloud seems even more vast than usual.  A gradient esque tricolour forms the convergence of the sky and the sea far off on the horizon producing a sense of clarity and calmness that infects the air and all of Treyarnon’s inhabitants.  The rooftops of the caravans cascade away from the reception window each one entitling someone the weight-in-gold views so many only wish for.

Two small dogs – or is it just the distance? chase each other along the sand which reminds of demerara sugar as it appears to be brown in the warmth of the sun.  As the delivery van pulls away the noise is reduced to just a mellow hum, the tone of which I cannot quite decipher but it sounds to me alot like happiness ©

Richard Jenkin – June 2018