This was her fourth ice cream in a row. She was out of control. It was probably because she had deprived herself of so much during Lent, but that was no excuse for pigging out on Easter Monday. Brighton seemed to have that effect on her. First go to Harry Ramsden’s for fish and chips – there could be none better in the world. Then saunter down the pier watching the kids pumping their money into slot machines in the amusement arcades, just like she used to do before she became ‘sensible’. Then wander along the front looking to see how many youngsters were brave enough to take a dip at that time of year, as she had done as a teenager, while her parents were sitting wrapped up in thick overcoats on their picnic blanket spread over the shingle. Oh the memories that came flooding back!
Caressed by Sea’s lifting, sifting hands,
sleep the beaches’ drifting, shifting sands.
A Tyburn Poem = 6 rhyming lines of 2,2,2,2,9,9 syllables. First four lines rhyme, last two lines rhyme and contain the first four lines in 5th through 8th syllables.
We walked for miles through fields and woods
and we didn’t even need our brollies!
We never needed to put up our hoods
like we have done on our other jollies.
Why on earth had I let Rob persuade me to go climbing over the rocks with him? Even worse, why hadn’t we turned back while we still could before the tide came in? But there was no point worrying about that. We had to get through the night, marooned halfway up the cliff, with no means of contacting anyone. Why is it that mobile phones never have any reception when needed?