SandCastleS

 SandCastleS

By Chris Mathews    

        The first time I saw the sea I thought I was standing on the very edge of the world. I asked my dad, “does it go on forever, or just tumble over the rim in a great waterfall far away?”

“No, but somewhere over there is another land, thousands of miles away. They speak a strange language and it’s so hot some of them don’t were clothes.”

“But why is the sky so big, it’s much bigger here than in London.” My dad turned away with a chuckle and set up the deck chairs. I had only just turned six and this was my first holiday, the first time out of London. I loved the train ride down to the seaside, the whole world flashed by like a film seen through the windows of our carriage. It’s a shame they don’t have steam trains anymore.

Thundering, great waves crashed onto the beach. Warm soft sand squelched between my toes, like stepping into warm boots on a cold snowy day. There I stood, looking out over a vast expanse of gold, wriggling my toes, enjoying the sensation.

My older brother ran ahead, leaping for joy and shouting excitedly. With a cricket stump, he wrote his name in the sand in giant letters. He looked up at an aeroplane miles above us and shouted, “It’s me - Stephen - I’m on holiday - in Littlehampton!” But the plane just ignored him, and flew on. He ran into the breaking surf without bothering to change into his trunks. Turning back to me he shouted,

“Come and splash in the waves it’s wonderful!” Mum shouted something about changing into swimming trunks… but the rest was lost in the wind, anyway, he was having too much fun to listen. I stood there amazed at the sight.  Stephen was almost nine, he had seen the sea before, but to me it was astonishing. Andrew was only four and still just a baby!

Back home, we sometimes sailed pond yachts on the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens, but, compared to this, that seems like a puddle. Staring at the vast blue ocean, I asked of no one in particular,

“Where did all that water come from.” Dad laughed and said,

“That’s where all the rain goes, silly.”

Finally, Stephen’s infectious joy overtook my amazement, and I too ran out into the sea, but only up to my ankles. It was freezing! I drew back quickly as a cold wave rushed at me splashing my knees. I fell over. Funny how you can’t keep your balance when the water is moving beneath you.

Dad set up the wind brakes, umbrellas, towels and a tablecloth. Mum laid out a thermos, sandwiches and little cakes. Dad tied the corners of his handkerchief to make a sort of sun hat, we all laughed at him, but he didn’t care. He just sat back in his deckchair smiling at the sun, and eating a sandwich. Mum handed me a bucket and spade, but my older brother was already building a sandcastle. I dropped to my hands and knees, which plunged deep into the warm soft sand. It was like the golden-brown sugar my mum used for baking. I was allowed to help in the kitchen sometimes. Andrew tried a mouthful of sand, pulled an ugly face and spat it out.  Stephen built a big mound like a hill.

“All castles have to be built on a hill, because the invading army gets tired out climbing it, and then they can’t fight!” He made a flat top by pounding the mound with his spade.

I too began to build. Soon, six round towers and a wall around enclosed the space inside. Stephen said, “we need a portcullis, and a drawbridge to keep invaders out!”

My dad called out, “you’ve got to have a mote; every castle needs one to defend itself against invasion.” So, we dug a trench all the way around, which slowly began to fill with water.

“Perfect, it looks like a real castle now!”

After eating sandy sandwiches and drinking too much Tizer and Ginger Beer, Dad made some flags out of lolly sticks and sweet wrappers.

Two boys from further up the beach came to join in, one said, “we can be the Saracens - I’m Suliman the Magnificent and this is a Templar fortress. You three can be medieval knights. We are going to build Trebuchet’s to break down your castle.”

“What’s a trebuchet?” I asked.

“Big wooden siege engines” Said one with a mouthful of cake mum gave him. “The Saracens used them to throw big rocks to smash the castles walls.” These boys were much older than me.

My dad solemnly said, “kneel, Sir Stephen.” And placed the red and white bucket on Stephen’s head, he knighted him there on the sand with his spade. “Take this mighty sword and with your fellow knights defend my kingdom.” Andrew sat inside and was given the title, “Keeper of the Kings Castle.”

Soon, some of the towers began to collapse, my brother shouted,

“Quick, repair the south turret, reinforced the drawbridge, rebuild the walls!” We all pattered down the wet sand to compact it. But the incoming tide did more damage than the tiny stones those boys flicked from their lolly stick trebuchets. The tide was coming nearer.

Dad said, “you need to build a dam against the waves.” We all worked franticly to save the castle. But the sea lapped into out feeble mote, and undermined the towers, which slumped back into the sand. Mum shouted above the sound of the surf, “quick dad, get your camera and take a picture.” But eventually the inevitable happened, as waves washed away our childhood.

Finally, dad said looking at the remains, “sorry boys, you can’t stop the tide. Just ask King Canute, he should know. Remember your Sunday School lessons, the wise man builds his house upon the rock, but the fool builds his house upon the sand.”

Running down to the beach the next day I saw that, nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare but the lone and level sands stretch far away. Only a few lolly stick flags were left sticking up out of the sand.

Looking at this grainy black-and-white photograph now, three proud little boys stare grinning back at me, I try hard to remember who they were. On the back was written Littlehampton 1962. I wonder where those boys are now.

 

© Christopher Mathews, May 2026

ADDICTS

 ADDICTS  (Spaced out) 

Peter Woodgate 

Wandering through

Decaying cities of the universe

Lost souls sift in vain

Each empty building reverberates

And crumbles with their pain.

They search for elusive paradise

Within the fix of dreams

But stare into an endless void

Without corners or of seams.

Each molecule within their frame

Forms the galaxy of despair

Where atoms explode

Within their heads

And stars light up their hair.

They slide into the orb of darkness

That black hole in the sky

Where visions are lost

And gravity

Stifles every cry.

Legs and arms and hands and feet

Become detached

And then they meet

As the souls rejoice

Without a choice

And oblivious

Of devastation.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

WINDERMERE REMINISCED

 WINDERMERE REMINISCED

Peter Woodgate 

Blues and whites and pinks are seen

From houses on the mountain green

That circumvents the lake and sky

A scene that visits you and I

These mornings as I open wide

The shutters, now securely tied

To greet the warm and gentle breeze

That drifts across my face, I sneeze,

Then look back at the bed and you

And see you have awoken too.

Then, softly, I caress your face

You turn around and we embrace,

I whisper that I love you, then,

We hear the chiming of Big Ben.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

 

OUR LATE QUEEN

 OUR LATE QUEEN

By Barbara Thomas

 Our beloved Queen Elizabeth would have been 100 years old on the 21st April 2026. When the Lord made her, he made an Angel in disguise. As many people know she was not born to be a Queen, but my God she stood up to the challenge. We should always remember her Consort, Phillip, the Duke of Edinburgh. During her reign she stood steadfast and true, to the end of her day’s. So thank you Ma’am.

 We remember with a smile the day the Queen and Daniel Craig acted out a Bond scene, the Queen as “M” and Daniel as “007”. Everybody watched as they both walked along the corridors of the Palace, even ended up with being parachuted over London. Fiction: Another memory, and looking back, the last time we would be seeing her great humour. No one can forget the Queen’s playful scene with Paddington Bear where the Bear offered her majesty tea and a marmalade sandwich, the response was with a twinkle in her Majesty’s eye.

 “No thank you I had a sandwich in my bag”. What a moment never to be forgotten. We will miss her charming smile, and wonderful clothes but most of all, the woman behind the Crown.

Barbara Thomas

WHEN

 WHEN (TRIBUTE TO RUDYARD KIPLING)

By Peter Woodgate

WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN TRANSMUTED

FROM THE ESSENCE OF TIME

YET FIND YOURSELF JUST ONE AMONGST THE MANY

 

WHEN YOU HAVE EXISTED

FOR 5000 MILLION YEARS

AND WILL CONTINUE

FOR 5000 MILLION MORE

 

WHEN YOU CAN TAKE THE CHEMICAL ELEMENTS

AND BAKE THEM INTO THE MOST EXOTIC OF DISHES

AND STILL PRODUCE A SURPRISE FOR DESSERT

 

WHEN YOU CAN SHINE MORE BRIGHTLY

THAN THE BRIGHTEST OF, MOST PRECIOUS JEWELS

AND YET BE NO MORE THOUGHT OF

THAN THE AIR WE BREATHE

 

WHEN YOU CAN FEED THE MULTI-MILLION LIFEFORMS

THAT CO-EXIST IN ORGANISED CONFUSION

AND STILL HAVE HEART ENOUGH TO WARM THEM TOO

 

WHEN YOU HAVE DONE ALL THIS

WITH NO MORE GUIDANCE SAVE FOR NATURES PLAN

THEN YOU DESERVE A LITTLE PRAISE AT LEAST

 

AND WHICH IS MORE YOU WILL BE A SUN MY MAN.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

            

The Road (100 words)

 The Road  (100 words)

By John Abbott

You will begin your journey as either a male or a female. (or other complexities)

You will be able to learn fast and no doubt, you will also encounter different challenges depending on your location, beliefs, health, and probably wealth as well.

You will have opportunities and trials aplenty, however, these will vary enormously dependant upon how you are taught, how much you choose to take on board, your character, your choices and pure random luck. 

I wish you the best during your trip.

Please remember, the Road is very hard, however, it is even harder if you are stupid!

 

Copyright John Abbott

A character that isn’t there

 A character that isn’t there

By Jane Goodhew

Sat on a secluded beach watching the sunrise and imagining that you were there with me I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know there is a stranger talking away to me.  He is younger than me, extremely animated in his speech and waves his arms around so much he almost hits me in the face.  His smile could melt the Arctic Circle and his eyes are warm like hot chocolate but deep with a sparkle like a thousand stars.  What is the matter with me I’m no longer a teenager yet here I am looking at him through puppy dog eyes as if I had never spoken to a man before let alone a handsome one.  He continues to talk but I don’t seem able to hear him it as if someone has pressed the mute button, I can see his mouth opening and closing yet no sound?  I ask him to speak up and lean forward thinking this might help but still his words fall on deaf ears. He gets up and I realise he is extremely tall and dressed as if he were going to the theatre rather than to wander along the shore. He starts to walk towards the sea and I think surely he’s not going to go in dressed in those clothes they will be ruined? As if he could read my thoughts he suddenly stripped off everything and ran into the cool water and swam off into the distance leaving just his neatly piled clothes behind.

I jumped up, rushed to the clothes to see if they at least were real, they were, which means so was the man yet there was no one to be seen in the sea!  I rummaged through his pockets; there might be a wallet or something that would identify him.  I came up blank, not so much as parking ticket, no wallet so no money or drivers licence.  This man did not want to be found which implied he had swum off to die?  No, why would he come over and talk if that was his intention, stop being so morbid and go and get help or call the life guard anything but standing there looking gormless.  The beach was deserted and the nearest phone was at least a mile down the road near where she had parked her car.  This was supposed to be a relaxing evening to sit and watch the sun go down over the ocean not watch a man perhaps swim out to his death.

I ran as fast as I could and collided with a policeman who happened to be along the promenade as there had been reports of strange behaviour near the beach.  Quickly, through gasps for breath I told him what had taken place.  He looked at me, asked if I had been drinking which made me glare at him and turn away before I said something I might regret. He agreed to at least go back to the spot where the clothes were, obviously not just mine, and  apologise for his wrong assumptions or at least that is what I thought. Well, we know where thought got me, cautioned for wasting police time because apart from my towel and other belongings there was nothing and no sign there ever had been.  Not even a footprint in the damp sand.  I gave up the idea of relaxing, watching the sun set over the horizon and dream of you, picking up my things I made my way back home to open up a much needed bottle of wine.                             

                                                    Copyright Jane Goodhew