it rained,
all day.
I bought a stick of rock
that stuck like a limpet to its wrapper
then like glue to my hand.
I purchased a bucket and spade
and a plastic windmill that caught my eye.
So in hope of re-living past glories of my childhood
I took my plastic windmill, my bucket, my spade and my hope
(having already discarded the stick of rock)
and headed off over the sharp shingle beach to the thin strip of sand
and, to the bemusement of the pensioners,
who seem to spend all of eternity glued to the benches on the promenade,
I started to construct my castle of hope and sand.
With my trusty spade ( that snapped at the first attempt to scoop up wet sand)
and my trusty bucket (with a handle that cuts off all circulation)
I built my castle.
And though it did look like a pile of sand with a few shells stuck on top,
in my mind it was the greatest sand castle ever seen on the beach that day.
Well it was the only sand castle on the beach that day
and it did have a moat, filled with water,
and a drawbridge, well a piece of wood across the moat.
Thus in triumph, I stuck my plastic windmill into the top of my castle
and stepped back to admire my glorious castle of sand and hope,
just as a gust of wind, rushing in from the north sea,
picked up my windmill, and raced of with it into the distance.
I turned back in time to see a wave, that had been waiting
patiently offshore for me to finish,
rush up the thin strip of sand
and belly flop onto my castle of sand.
Then after soaking my shoes, the wave gently receded
leaving just a faint impression of what had been my mighty castle of sand.
Cursing at the sea and the wind, I squelched back across the shingle
under the bemused gaze of the bench hogging pensioners.
Even the gulls were squawking in amusement at me.
I stood upon the promenade in dejection
casting one last look at the scene
of my futile attempt to rekindle past glories of childhood.
I trudged to my car, and started the journey home
with wet feet and sand that had worked into every crevice of my skin.
No sooner had I left the beach, then the rained stopped
and the sun came out of hiding.
This sand castle building lark,
is a lot harder then I remember.
mudcrow
July 4 1999
