I usually try to at least walk around the block when I pop out for a sandwich, as I am making a concerted effort to be a bit healthier.
The other day – a sunny, breezy afternoon – I was walking down Pier Road towards Withernsea’s prom and spotted the Gazette’s erstwhile columnist, Bill Jardine, with his dog, Coleen.
As you do, I waved and shouted, “Hiya, Bill!” No reaction, so I tried again. “Now then, Bill!” He clearly hadn’t spotted me and forged ahead regardless.
The scenario was developing into something like that bit in Alan Partridge where he vainly shouts, “Dan, Dan… Dan…! Dan!! DAAAN!”
I emailed Bill later to tell him that I had nearly died of embarrassment and must now leave Withernsea, never to return. He thought I was being serious until I realised I was, just about, kidding.
I think I got away with it as I’m not sure many others were in earshot, thankfully.
I reached the seafront and stopped to have a look at the sea, as I often do. Staring at the movement of the waves is so therapeutic, especially during the chaos of trying to put this paper together.
It was World Poetry Day, that day, too – so I was inspired to compose a little ditty on the spot, following my stroll along Queen Street, which I later posted on Twitter to tumultuous acclaim.*
It’s a breezy day in Withernsea
The waves gently lap the shore
I just saw a woman with a bright pink rinse
That’ll be me, when I’m eighty-four
*25 likes, at the time of going to press.
