HS06

Hastings Diary Day 12 May 2016 TEMPLATE

Sharing our stories and making connections…

Had morning coffee with mum before returning to the office. We sat out and watched the wet mist transform into a beautiful yellow glow.

At 88 mum is facing what is likely to be her last house move. She is shocked at the solicitor’s and estate agents fees and asked if I could make sense of them. Every nonsensical action itemised. She wants me to tell her she is either being ripped off or not ripped off; I am not sure which answer will satisfy her at this moment. I do neither, I tell her she needs to ask her agent to explain everything to her.

I am wracked by a terrible sadness as I drive away. How people’s situations change so drastically; one minute holidays abroad, a partner to enjoy ones old age with, and then alone and confused, at the mercy of adult children. What more to look forward to?

At the office the young ones are talking about diets again. If they used the time they took talking about diets to go for some exercise they wouldn’t need to be dieting in the first place.

I have lunch on our lovely new pier. It has turned out to be a gloriously hot day and the pier   provides a warm breeze. I love the space and the clean wooden planks. Today they are preparing for the first outdoor film screening - perfect weather for it.

Eat lunch at the new cafe/restaurant. Sitting at a table near the pier edge I remember coming to the same spot when the Gritti Palace was here, several years before the pier burnt down, to watch England play in the world cup. They had an old fashioned television outside with a sofa and even a standard lamp with a tasselled shade, like a front room from my childhood. I sat myself down with a strong dutch beer and watched the match along with a handful of likeminded strangers. And as the sun went down over the west of the pier we all cheered in unison when England scored.

I love the new pier but I miss that whacky Gritti Palace. 

Watch the seagulls perched above the cafe roof as they watch me eat my egg sandwiches. I’m onto them! I know how they work in pairs, one to distract while the other steals your food. I don’t take my eyes off them and then become paranoid that they are both the decoys and the real muggers will swoop down from behind. I ask the nice lad cleaning tables if they ever get a problem with seagulls and he replies not as yet, they seem well behaved, that he thinks we are not eating the sorts of things seagulls like. I remind him that they mess our town up every week breaking into bins to gorge on human detritus. We both agree it is our fault, the Brits, who don’t know how to effectively seal our rubbish, clear our al fresco tables, stop people feeding them!

A black labrador plays with the waves below while its owner sits on the sea defences reading. He swims in circles and appears to be trying to catch something, or jumping the waves like we did as children. He reminds me of my old dog, long dead. We always had Labs, always getting sprayed by the big shake they make as they stroll up close after emerging from a smelly stagnant pond. One day my Lab demonstrated his Canadian fishing dog heritage by jumping into Alexander Park duck pond and coming out with a fish in his mouth, which he promptly swallowed. Then he jumped in again and came out with another fish - gulp! It was like being in the middle of a disney cartoon. 

I catch the indoor fish market just before closing. The fish are put away but they find me a mackerel -  head off, gutted and in the bag. I clutch my fish bag close, survey the territory and manoeuvre my way cautiously back to the office. I know those seagulls are still watching me.