THE ADVENTURER AND THE DECTORIST

I sat on a bench belonging to Gwendolin and Charlie, who "loved this view". I could hardly have blamed them, had they still been around to blame: the sea stretched out, sparkling in the evening sunshine, lapping at the wet sand, rippling cool, calm and flat under a cloud-painted sky. Golden Cap, the highest cliff on the south coast, was bathed in the warm, low sunshine and very much living up to its name.

I am then, at last, on holiday. So far, I've driven into a drainpipe, tripped over my shoelaces, been intimidated by a hungry seagull and come face-to-face with a dog the size of a bear.

I am exaggerating a bit. There was no real damage to the car - just a clunk as I parked it. The guy who runs the B&B told me I probably won't need it again, which is actually fine by me, although it struck me later as an odd thing to say. I will need it to go home, of course.

"Are you here for work?" he asked as I filled out my form.

"Nope, just a short break," I replied, trying to remember my address. He told me I'd picked a good week and that it should be nice and quiet. I think, actually, I might be the only person staying here, so that is possibly inevitable.

I went for a wandering adventure this evening. Lyme Regis is one of those places which is sort of built on a terrace that slopes down to the sea. As a result, everything useful is at the top of the hill and the beach is at the bottom. I remember this from my childhood. Holidays for us were 75% sitting on the beach in the rain eating sandwiches and 20% carrying chairs and picnic boxes and windbreaks back up the steps to the car park. The other 5% was spent trying to find a suitable place to eat, as I remember. That was never easy with my family.

I managed it okay tonight though, I think. I found a beachside café with some outdoor seating; I ate fish and chips off a square plate. As I reclined, feeling replete with mushy peas, a giant seagull squawked in, perched on the table and started pecking at the half-eaten battered cod I could not finish. I raised my eyebrows at it. It gave me a beady look and then flapped off.

I sat on the stones for a while and threw rocks into the sea, thanking God that the sea air has taken away my hay fever. Then I wandered along the seafront, overhearing snippets of interesting conversations.

I saw an old man in a Christmas jumper, metal-detecting along the sand. He was bent over, almost double, swinging his detector from side-to-side, looking for treasure under his faded sun hat and dark glasses. He was muttering to himself. I wondered what it was he was looking for. It struck me as a melancholy image - maybe a lost precious thing from years ago, perhaps a granddaughter's toy, perhaps it was just a hobby. I've thought up a poem for him:

The Detectorist

Ring pull, coke can

Covered by the sand

He turns about a tiny car

Within his weathered hand

Bottle top, pin-badge

Buried out of reach

Until the day he rescues them

And pulls them from the beach

Sun hat, weather-worn,

Detector swinging wide

But what is he detectoring

From side to side to side?

Lost things, buried here?

Forgotten out of hand?

Ancient shards of priceless

Treasure, hidden in the sand?

Lost things, lost world

Broken and alone

But who will go detectoring

To bring them 

Home?

It was while thinking about this that I got tangled up in my laces and had to have a sit down to sort them out. For some reason, I've brought extra long laces for my walking boots. I have to double-tie them and then tuck them into my socks. I sat on the sea wall and pulled them tight and safe. Then I got up and was immediately growled at by a massive dog on a lead. I smiled weakly and sat back down again.

"Come on," said the dog's owner, to the dog, as though the behemoth had just been sniffing a bin bag instead of snarling at an actual human being with long shoelaces. This is worse than the time I got mistaken for luggage on the Leeds to Bradford line, I thought. But that's a whole other (uncomfortable) story.

So anyway, here I am, relaxing on the south coast, enjoying a view patronised by Gwendolin and Charlie. I think I might start walking tomorrow. Who knows what adventures await!