Views and Abusing

I really love living by the sea.

When I was little, my family stayed in Cornwall every summer, so walking on the coast makes me feel like I'm eternally on holiday. The air is so fresh and salty, and the seagulls are so chatty... The best thing, though, is the view.  I'm such a sucker for a good view.  While most landscapes rely on the sky and seasons to give them their variety, the coast offers the extra elements of water and wind, to exponentially increase the possibilities for variety.


The firth of Forth can be completely reflective and still, or silkily rippling, or choppy, or harbour-wall-soakingly tempestuous, and it can be any colour from chrome to navy blue. There was an amazing morning last year when there was no wind, and the sea-mists came in so that thin clouds obscured the far coast and the sea reflected the sky, so that there was no horizon line.  Enveloped in a perfect baby blue colour, I felt like I was looking over the edge of the earth.

No matter how it looks, though, I'm still mesmerised every time I'm near the coast.  I think I have  a bit of an anti-waste mentality about beauty. People, scenery, art, wallpaper - if I think it's aesthetic I can't stop staring.  In its most socially acceptable sense, this will make me pull over to watch a sunset if I'm driving in the wrong direction.  On the other hand, I've often unwittingly made people uncomfortable if they are wearing nice shoes, or a beautiful necklace: from their perspective it apparently seems like I'm giving them quite the once-over. I may have made some middle-aged men's days doing this...

It's quite a relief to move up to Fife; to more often stare at coastlines than waistlines.