Thalassophiles: Lovers of the Sea

Dear Dad,

This is what I like to imagine you can see when you look out of your heavenly window: a ‘Jekylled’ ocean – so cool and serene, that it’s hard to believe that it’s where an emotionally dysregulated, stormy and wild alter ego also ‘Hydes’. I can’t help but smile. A moody ocean that is always chattering; a constant friend to the miles and miles of smooth, unadulterated, caramel, that snuggles beneath a blanket of bubblegum blues and sugary whites that is as tongue-tingling-tinging-tastic and as warm and wispy as cotton candy.

We always had a mutual affinity with all things coastal didn’t we Dad? We’d spend hours, days, and weeks at the beach – a lifetime if we could. I was that quiet (sometimes wild!) ocean child, ready to 'seas' the day and go with the flow with you. It didn’t matter if it was a Chills-day in Tenby, a Wet-nesday in Gardenstown or a Fry-day in Bournmouth; with sunshine in our pockets and sea water in our veins, we had no qualms announcing “F**K it, pack your suitcase, get ready to leave at a moments notice.” But of all the shorelines, we never did get that opportunity to leave our footprints on Blackpool’s golden mile. That getaway was scuppered several decades ago by God only knows and the sands of time.

I love Blackpool, especially the golden mile. Blackpool basks and hustles – although during the day I tend to rest inside my shell like a hermit crab, escaping the heat and holiday makers with children that are wind burnt, yawning and yes, ;) still pleading and tugging on the not so bottomless pockets of their penniless parents.

When I wake, I meander. Vinegar spikes the air and there is a decadent, sugary aroma that entices my tummy to grumble with delight.

Some days, my hair will dance furiously, leaving salty traces as it teases and brushes across my lips. High above, brightly coloured kites flap wildly, swooping this way and that. Oh and of course – the seagulls – always crying with ecstasy.

And some days, the only way is up. 350 feet up the tower to the walk of faith…

Way up here (and closer to you, Dad), I spy the Jekyll and Hyde sea of hues. Brucie shouts out from the comedy pavement carpet below: “Nice to see you, to see you nice!” And like you, although a presence that is now woefully minuscule, you are both still omnipresent and larger than life.

Look to your right and nestled outside the shops and neighbouring guest houses, you’ll find Funny Girls, Lulu’s and Peek-A-Booze - where from dusk to dawn, the pleasure is all theirs - Nancy (with the instagram smile) and Trixie (have you got knickers on? 😉Good girl!) .

And so I meander some more, with oodles of time to reach my free, lifetime, premier membership to ‘access all Cocoa-Skies’.

The pier is a striking silhouette against a Wispa gold backdrop that stretches far and wide. And to this very day, Dad, I still like to simply stand barefoot at the waters edge and let the rhythmic percussion of the waves splash over my toes. And when I close my eyes and tilt my head skywards, I can just about feel the sun’s warm caress, my face aglow from the last bronzed rays before twilight beckons the stars.

There really is no better place to lose my mind and find my soul.

But then Friday 13th March dawned, and one by one the shutters came down and doors closed until further notice. And even though there was still plenty of room at the inn, the world, finding itself amidst a pandemic, suddenly shut up shop and held it’s breath…

That was the last time I saw the sea – dark and moody – just like me as I made my way begrudgingly back home.

I miss the view from the room of my travels, where the heavenly skies touch the sea. There is nothing more devoted than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it is sent away. It's also sad that I can no longer share such peace and beauty with you.

I know, I hear you, Dad:

“Life’s too short to bear a grudge… Plenty more fish in the sea…”

You’re right. I’m home now and still very grateful for my very own room with a view, nestled in the heart of a Welsh valley.

Sometimes, this is all a fully grown up, once quiet and wild ocean child needs.

Sea you soon.

Love always,

Michelle xxx