Of all the contributions I could receive, it is more than a little moving to have received this a couple of weeks ago…and to hear the tale recounting its taking.
George, my divine godson, was on the beach with his brother, Oliver, Equally perfect, and friends, when George spotted the shoe..
Evidently George set about taking the shot while Oliver distanced himself and the others from the task in hand…..at 12 and 14 years old I am not proud to have brainwashed them to such a degree that they too can no longer walk past a lost item without feeling the urge to take a pic, regardless of the potential social awkwardness that may result. Top guys.
It was taken on Lytham beach, one of my favourite places….and scene of these losses, found while out with David. Training shoes and Lytham beach do not exactly conjur up the happiest of memories for me….school lies just across the road and cross country always entailed a jog across the hockey field followed by a run round Fairhaven Lake, then across the dunes back to school…all clad only in your school issue orange sweatshirt and your brown knickers, plain not ribbed!
As the asthmatic, fat kid of the class I was excused cross country and instead was left with the other sporty misfits to do netball practise in the games hall. Urrrrgggh. To this day I don’t know if my games-time asthma was brought on by physical exertion or the stress and fear generated by being in the presence of our games mistress who frankly scared the hell out of me.
At 44, however, isn’t it just a little odd that I can run for a mile, climb a mountain, swim long distances and cycle…..?
What I love about beach losses more than the regular ones is that nine times out of ten the item is covered in sand making it look immediately camouflaged or like the ghost image of something which was once left on a beach.
A single boot, however, always seems a bit macabre.
It took me a long time, as I’ve mentioned before, to start seeing Lytham in a positive light. I think when you leave school, initially, you just don’t want the reminders, you’ve moved on, but the birth of my godsons now many moons ago changed all that and I see Lytham for the fab place it is. Strolling round Fairhaven Lake is, too, one of my parents favourite pastimes, so we diverted off the beach enroute back to the car, and round the lake.
There is evidently someone equally obsessed living round there too. Every pile of dog mess had been circled with aerosol paint and a date written by it. I can’t begin to describe my joy at seeing that – adorable foibles of the eccentricati (does such a word even exist??).
But back to Lytham and sport. People who have never visited will know Lytham for one thing if nothing else and that’s Royal Lytham, local home, infequently to the British Open, and I couldn’t let this weekend go by without publicly mentioning Seve Ballesteros. I don’t know if I cry for his death and the fact that as a teenage girl I thought he was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen or if I weep for the fact that that bastard disease has claimed another victim, or for the memories of happy family times in front of the TV watching Pro Celebrity Golf with him and Lee Trevino.
It was a firm fixture in the Edmundson household. My Granny would come round for tea and after we’d all sit round and watch, and laugh at Jimmy Tarbuck’s awful jokes, swoon at Seve’s looks and bristle at Peter Aliss‘s terribly proper commentary.
Whatever the reason my Dad is such a keen golfer and fan of golf that Seve Ballesteros’s name has been bandied around our home for more years than not. What a huge, huge shame, what a terrbily sad loss. I just hope it sparks dated reruns from Gleneagles and becomes cult viewing.
One last loss before I go….it’s not clothing so strictly speaking really has no place on these pages, but I saw this on the beach and thought…what the hell? Aside from wondering what it was, I find its foetal nature really alarming ……shudders.