I have loved the sea side since I was a child. It has special memories for me so indelibly etched onto my mind, I still feel the same sense of wonder, mystery and excitement whenever I am close to it.
When I was little, the seaside would mean days crabbing with tiny cooked prawns as bait, the fishermen disgusted by our flagrant use of such delicacies. The salty tang of the ocean air still evokes memories of fish and chips eaten while sitting on a pier. The batter would be crisp and shatter beneath our teeth revealing the firm, sweet white flakes and the chips would be salty and tangy from too much vinegar, malt, of course.
Sea gulls would scream overhead, once swooping down to snatch a piece of fish I held aloft, dripping sea-water from it's feet all over my remaining chips as though he wanted to ensure that he spoiled my dinner as spite for his constant hunger.
