Leave no trace

Beach Journal 10th June 2026

West Pier, Brighton. 9.30am. 14°C heavy showers and strong winds. Tide coming in.

Getting to visit the beach before the dentist is a wonderful thing It’s best to raise my spirits and calm my breathing before laying in that chair for a filling. The wind however has other ideas. It is very cold and is giving me earache.

The sky is blue overhead when I stop by the West Pier. The clouds to the south and east are performing a spectacle though, shaping and drifting and reshaping all around. Layers of different textures are glowing in the sunlight.

If I had the right knowledge, I think I would notice the direction of the breeze and the height and shape of the clouds and know what was coming. I read a book about predicting weather once but I don’t remember enough.

There are plenty of walkers along the beach and a large group of teenagers in dark green uniforms are sitting near the lifeguard hut, laughing and shrieking.

A man lays out on the slope, baseball cap over his face, ankles crossed, hands clasped.

Gulls are tucked into a familiar gathering, spaced out a little but all heads into the wind. A couple fly low over the water and putter about near the edge, pecking into the pebbles.

The bland greys that dulled spring are gone today. The sea is opaque greens, the sky bright blue. Even the stones seem to have more colour in this light.

The scent of seaweed and salt is strong. I close my eyes and I’m suddenly ten with wet hair, wrapped in a huge beach towel, next to a cool box of sandwiches and a bucket and spade.

I might not leave a trace but the beach, the sea, are imprinted, never forgotten.