Pieces of eight in the jukebox...

Us, we, are mostly made of water, tides and moon move us, moons and stars guide us, rocks us, beacons warn us, rocks up at us, jogs us, - moonrocks...

So i begin, us, i - name itself means - "Son of the wave, born near the sea," It is shared with a poet and a songwriter and i would like to begin and end with some of their writings/lyrics and more known words than mine alone...

"To begin at the beginning: it is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobble streets silent and the hunched, courters'- and - rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloe black, slow, black, crow black fishing boat-bobbing sea. [...] And all the people of the lulled and dumbfounded town are sleeping now." Thomas

You would dig a big a hole in the beach, place down a towel and lay on it then put another completely over yourself and start to cover with stones. With the aid of a snorkel to breathe get completely submerged, buried alive... Then people would walk over you, speak into the snorkel, pretend that you had gone missing to cause panic until you freed yourself and emerged like the mythical Kraken, surf zombie and marked from the stones to dive in to the sea, to be re-born once again...

Memories of this beloved, began with finding a scruffy feline urchin on the shingle of Brighton beach, later becoming our family cat - Pebbles, sadly to later desert us in it's older years and preferring to stay with the dusty barnacle next door.

"Wait an hour, you've eaten" (cramp warnings), "Wear your jelly shoes" (weaver fish), "Stay away from the boats at the back of the beach" (sleeping drunks), "Don't climb on to the beach huts" (fall through), "No you cannot go along to Peter Pan's Arcade" (wasting money), and so on...

The first time i swam out to the buoy i remember looking back on the beach shoreline and thinking how far back it was and seeing the houses that lined Madeira drive from a different and silent grand perspective - a dignified victorian secret smile.
'Between the devil and the deep blue sea', remembering that certain film that EVERYONE always thinks about when out of depth, vulnerable and most importantly in the murky ocean...

A friend of mine had a beach hut that housed all manner of leisure bits, objects including inflatable apparel, Never paint a boat green - it will run aground. books - 'the Deep', rugs, cushions and wind breaks. One morning i remember drinking from a left over coke can and tasting all this grit and suddenly realising these small stones were in-fact ants, they were in my mouth, escaping from it, on to and around my face.

Up above, some one would shout "they're Here!" in formation they would soar past, everyone transfixed and looking in unison - the Red Arrows, these planes were X -wings and burned through the sky in uniform taking our breath and escapism with them.

Never start a voyage on the first Monday in April: This is the day that Cain slew Able and very unlucky. Always the first to arrive and last to leave, departing in the late afternoon, always sad like returning to school in the Autumn after the summer holidays. The thought of leaving the beach, climbing up those steps and the hill home, sun burnt, cold - As cold as blue hazes. damp, salty in beach attire, starving and carrying - as much within ourselves a deflated surf demon.

Far enough from the pier and all the tourist stuff and the temptations that go with it, the older boys who would jump from it.

A ship full of fools. Between the pier and the marina we would always be there, family and friends would come and go - it was our spot, 'Bev's Beach'. As happy as a clam.

We burnt deck chairs at night and the heat they gave off made small stones on the side of the sea groyne explode... I kissed her until i got a stomach ache... Eating water melon and hard boiled eggs... A cut foot and sand in the wound... A washed up liner called Athina B... Women and children first. A washed up body that turned out to be a storm damaged fiberglass ghoul from the Palace Pier's Ghost Train...It is unlucky to kill an albatross. They host the soul of dead sailors and are considered to be an omen of bad luck at sea, especially if killed. A sailor with over 50 years of service was said to go to “Fiddler’s Green” when he died. Catching mackerel and more often than not - not catching mackerel... Also it is unlucky to kill a gull. They also contain the souls of sailors lost at sea. A shark in the sea or a lion on land? question? Falling asleep on a lilo and not able to see the shore... Don’t rock the boat. Take a deep breath, I'm coming up for air...

"Never no more do I wonder, Why you don't never play with me any more.
At any moment you could go under, O Cause you're driftin' too far from shore." Bob

THE END