Arnside Sunset
Back from a couple of days 'darn sarf' in Essex, it feels like I have been away for a month for some reason. As a child I was brought up in Leigh on sea, and spent most of my formative years either looking at the Thames Estuary or sailing around it in a Mirror Dinghy. When I go back to visit, so much has changed that it is easy to lose sight of the things that remain the same. The cockle boats have got bigger, and the car parks are more expensive, but the sea wall still shakes when a train goes past on its way up to Fenchurch Street, the pubs are still full of old, bearded blokes in cordurouy caps and canvas smocks who talk about each other and complain about the landlord and the tide still goes out so far that the pier in neighbouring Southend had to be built over a mile and a quarter long.
Coming back to Arnside has reminded me why I moved up north in my twenties (and again in my forties). The tide goes out in Morecambe Bay too, trains clatter across the viaduct in Arnside, and the village fills up with earnest people in stout boots and cagoules throughout the summer, but there is an unpretentious sincerity and a wholesome charm about this area that seems to have gone missing from the Essex coast.
And the sunsets are better.


