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  • Feb 12
  • 2 min read

Updated: Feb 13


Lately I have been fetishising the idea of living by the sea. I don’t care if it gets howling in the winter, or crowded in the summer, it just strikes me as quite a good way of life. There is something reassuring about the punctuation of the day, a walk before breakfast, a turn along the front in the late afternoon, a last look at the moon reflected in the water. Not bad.


I am not seafaring folk, so I can give no real insight into this supposed ‘good way’ of life, and I suspect that those who actually live by the sea would list, with some enthusiasm, the inconveniences, the damp, the wind, the endless sand in places where sand has no business being. Still, these practicalities feel beside the point when viewed from a desk in the middle of a city.


One must allow oneself a little musing now and then, if only because it feels like a rather good way to spend the next five minutes or so, and five minutes, after all, is sometimes all the escape one needs.



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