121. ...patterns ebb and flow...

(morning thinking)

The beach has been uncommonly quiet when I’ve sat down to my desk this week.

The sun is already a thumb width above the horizon. Google shows dawn times before five and I suppose that time’s just too early for even the most ardent sunrise chaser.

Throughout April taxis would arrive, skidding to a stop, doors opening before the suspension settled to disgorge students and tourists in balletic stunt rolls jackets flowing behind them DSLRs and selfie sticks stretched out to capture social proof they’d find feet and race to the sea to catch the fiery golden orb as it crept and glooped, lava like, over the horizon. It’s likely no less beautiful now. Just earlier. Too early to compete with a sleepy need for extra bed.

For half of the year my view is only ink blackness and my own reflection on the glass.

This time of year the window's opens and the view is beautifully lit.

I wake up at 5:20. Just ahead of my safety alarm. I have five minutes or so of thought, get up, and five minutes later I switch off the alarm half a second into its gentle chime.

The longest day this year, June 21st will see the sun break cover, peak up and rise above the North Berwick horizon at 4.26am. I think I’ll try to see that one from the beach. I’ve put the date in my calendar.

Observing the variation in the way the beach is visited throughout the year has been useful. My bum’s on this cushion, I’m facing the beach, within the same half hour time slot most of the year. Like 300 days? Allowing for morning’s missed to holidays and trips away, illnesses maybe. I keep it pretty consistent. I see the visitors arrive: regulars, tourists, students, romantics. The runners, strollers, dog walkers, detectorists, yogis, swimmers, rowers all have their own beach. It means something different to each individual. Their patterns ebb and flow with the seasons and vicissitudes of modern living.

Council litter pickers pass ahead of the big bin lorries which are followed in turn by the noisy street sweeping machine. The day gets louder in increments.

There’s Sam getting back to his motorbike after a morning swim.

I’ll say hello before I go for a run.

---