Those who know me as a historical fiction writer, also know me as a beach lover and someone who spends much time walking on beaches up and down my coast. Sometimes I just daydream about whatever I’m working on at the time. Sometimes I just live in the moment. And sometimes I become an interior decorator because living by the sea, one doesn’t have to spend a fortune on trendy decorating pieces…
One just goes for a walk and a bit of a fossick along the beach.
There are deliciously smooth pieces of wood, skeleton leaves, stingray egg-cases and kelp roots.
Rippled and worn cuttlefish, crab carapaces bleached and worn by the wind,
white china and stones and a bird ribcage.
I’ve filled two little plates with small things because House itself is small. Everything from glass to shards of timber,
crayfish carapaces, insect wings, sea urchins, abalone and cowrie shells.
And I have a thing about feathers. The huge one belongs to an albatross.
Outside it’s no different – dried seaweed, tumblegrass from the sand dunes, driftwood, white scallop shells and abalone. Even bits of rope.
And last but not least – learned behaviour from my Jackie. Every walk of every day, he collects one oyster shell and carries it home.
I have no idea why, but we have our very own midden at the front gate.