Life's a Year-Round Beach

7:00 AM Elizabeth Seckman 30 Comments

Beaches in the winter are better than beaches in the summer.

There. 

That’s it. 

End of post. 

What? You don’t think so? You can’t wait for the first spark of summer to throw kids and pets and beach towels into the car and head off at the crack of dawn? You love clambering over people to get to that perfect spot? You like having to bat away the giant beach ball that the annoying kid can’t control and have seawater dripping onto you by the bodyboarders making their way back to their patch? 

Even as a child, I disliked beaches – I disliked being hot and uncomfortable, having sand in my food and in my shoes and being sandpapered by a rough beach towel at the end of the day. 

My parents would always take me out at the end of the day, when tourists were leaving and the water was blissfully warm. We’d stop to buy fish-and-chips, back when it still came wrapped in newspaper, and it was the best taste in the world. 

When I married my husband, I discovered he hated beaches more than me, so we started taking our dog to the beach in the winter, when wearing wellies and padded jackets meant no sand would come close to touching our skin. The waves would thrash against the shore with the sound of thunder, or within a tight-knit of rock, it would be completely still, almost frozen. There’s nothing quite like the fresh south-westerly wind throwing salt air against you and turning up at the beach café red-faced and exhilarated for a hot chocolate in gloved hands. 

Give it a try, I think you’ll enjoy it. 

As I write the first draft of this post, I’m sitting in the café on the beach where my latest novel, Small Forgotten Moments, is set. I’m at a table just like the one where my main character Jo sat to sketch and enjoy her hot buttered teacake. It’s almost 10am and the beach is pretty much deserted apart from dog-walkers and the occasional jogger. It’s warm, but with a gentle sprinkle of rain in the air. Despite other people sitting at nearby tables, the overriding sound is the soporific ebb and flow of the tide. Just how it should be. 

You can read more about Small Forgotten Moments at www.annalisacrawford.com or go direct to my publisher’s website for all purchase options https://bit.ly/small_forgotten_moments

 About Annalisa Crawford

Annalisa Crawford lives in Cornwall, UK, with a good supply of moorland and beaches to keep her inspired. She lives with her husband, two sons, and canine writing partner, Artoo. She is the author of four short story coections, and two novels.