I am re-reading Richard Beard's powerful memoir about the drowning death of his brother on a Cornish beach. It resonates a lot with me. We too as children played and paddled and swam on those beaches, but back in the 1950s, so we were a generation behind Richard and his brothers.
I remember that powerful undertow - the sand disappearing under our feet. And there was an extra hazard for us children of the post-war baby boom - mines washing up on the beach. We were under strict instructions not to touch anything man-made that might be lying on the beach. Anything!
Poor young Nick. He was swept away in a matter of minutes. Not far, but far enough that he could no longer touch the bottom. It could so easily have been both of them, as his slightly older brother only just managed to make it back to the beach and ran frantically for help, which had no way of getting there in time.
He has finally been able to write about it and its a powerful memorial for his little brother.
Jean and I had a good morning on the doors on Tuesday, got some return visits done. And weather permitting I hope to be out on first call too.
Its been a paperwork week. Tax returns are due, so I have had to get out all the records and add things and what have you. My maths, never good, has not improved, Captain Butterfly does the actual form filling on the internet. And then yesterday 18 new butterfly memberships came flying through my letterbox. I got all the packages made up, and the attendant paperwork done, and had hoped to get them to the Post Office today.
Sadly I was woken in the early hours by my right hand going painfully off-line and have done very little today, beyond feel sorry for myself. I think I will be able to drive myself to the meeting the Hall tonight though, which is a plus.
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