What is it about a beach hut that makes the soul happy? I think it's the appeal to that bit of our brains that loves to have a home. As the sun went down at the end of a beautiful day, family groups of three and four sat in the doorways of their huts. Their chairs were slightly tipped towards each other, as though grouped around an imaginary fire. Often there was a kettle, teapot and crockery on a table inside. The huts are no bigger than garden sheds. But each one is a little home. It has a roof, and walls, and that's all you need.
And opposite beach huts is the sea. Miles and miles of ever-changing water. While we walked, it was blue, then green, then grey, then blue again. And above it the wide sky changed mood every few minutes. I can see why some people sit there all day, in the doorway, just watching the sea and sky. There's always someone coming, someone going, something changing. The sea is very healing. It absorbs the energy of your watching, and gives you more. It is bigger than us, and is never intimidated.
Between the sea and the huts, the beach and the little road curve around the coast. Everyone walks slowly. At the beach, you don't walk to get somewhere. You walk to breathe, to talk, to watch. Time doesn't seem to matter, and the end of the day surprises you. When you go back to your house, your skin is still singing with the sun and the wind and the sea.
