Silver Foil

I thought at first it was a collection of plastic bags of food from a barbecue. It was in a jumble on South Beach near the kiosk that sells coffee and ice cream. Then I noticed the silver foil. It was a silver foil wrap the kind they put around the runners at the end of a marathon. It was draped over something, though one side had come lose and was waving in the breeze. I didn’t want to stare. I keep to myself when I walk in the early mornings and I respect others’ privacy in equal measure. I guessed it was a man sleeping and the bags were his belongings. There was room in the shelter on the Prom but perhaps he wanted to sleep alone, even if the beach is pebbled and far from comfortable to lie on, I know I would. I saw two groups of kids huddled around bonfires on the North and South beach. It looks so evocative. A lovely way to see in the morning. Which, this morning, is rather overcast. 

I am sleepy. Sometimes I shut my eyes even as I am writing.  

A gentle day today to prepare myself mentally for the journey. I shall read through it and hunker down as best I can. It will be good to be on the move. And to see her. Quiet and talk. Quiet talk in the garden. And tea. Lots of tea.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.