BEACH GOD

Published by: Mat on 31st May 2018 | View all blogs by Mat

Well, masterpiece did not attract single reader on the web - save for my stalker pensioner buddy.  I'll try beloved Wordcloud.

BEACH GOD

by brightonsauce

silly dr1/possible tense conf issew

Brighton Winter

Photograph from personal portfolio available @12.99 per signed copy from Mat Scarborough, YO11

Drigby Foreshore

Inside the beach management office, the office I manage on a weekend basis as the beach management weekend superintendent there is a collage of photographs and snaps on the wall.  The great storm of ’79 shows the beach chalets smashed against the headland – like matchsticks [out the box].  The residents of the said chalets are spread and tagged at the ear.  A suprintentendent of yesteryear wears his fisherman’s smock and attempts in his futility to match kettle to corpse, teabags to twisted remains.

Thankfully, with the internet there is no such chance of big waves destroying my beach management complex office-hut affixed sturdily to the café next door, and where their jacket potatoes are a masterpiece of cuisine, and I get a discount.  If I wanted to – I might eat potatoes every day, and we don’t have internet connection actually, only a wind-up telephone and a clutch of beautiful lifeboys [RNLI].

Now, I’m getting ahead of myself.  Collages are on the wall, indeed.  Staring into the crowd of faces from ’33, I sense the tea dance is over[,] and there[,] amidst the folk a most beautiful handsome blonde man stares into camera.  My god it is me.  Yes, I have returned to the foreshore.

‘Look, it’s me!’ I say to Derick the maintenance chief.

‘Aye, and there’s me,’ he says, and actually it is him.  ‘Demobbed after Paschendale,’ he says, ‘I needed a job…’

‘But that would make you 122 years old,’ I say.

‘121,’ he says, ‘but don’t tell gaffer.’

‘Of course not, buddy,’ I say.

‘Reckon no, kiddo,’ he confirms.  He calls me Kiddo, I like that familiarity.

The only problem to date with the new posting has been the fog.  The fog has bleached my vista.  I stand on the slipway.  I might as well stand on a cloud.  I believe the sea is there somewhere, and also the beach, and possibly people on the beach, and possibly dogs – illegal and criminal dogs.  But I cannot chase the dogs if I cannot see the dogs.

I said to Derick ‘I can’t see any dogs…’

‘You are doing a brilliant job, Kiddo,’ he says.

On Drigby foreshore there is the one [other] disconcerting aspect to the posting.  That would be the toilet.

‘You will show me, Derick?’ I say.  ‘Last Saturday I lacked moral fibre and tossed rolls like hand grenades through the door.  The ladies, they were standing everywhere.

‘A great terror, the Ladies,’ says Derick.

‘Are you sure that’s my job?’ I say. ‘Head office wouldn’t just give me a baseball cap for nothing, eh?’

‘I’ll run you through [cubicles] when we have a quiet moment,’ he says, and I ruminate the possibility of sneaking a widdle – solo in the ladies’ lavatory.  Fight the power.

Mainly I must chronicle two achievements:

  1. Lifebelts – What kind of council official dictates that the beach manager Drigby Central beach seasonal must also inspect the lifebelts over at Coalsteeth Harbour – which is 4 miles away?

Thankfully, Derick has a BMX for me and so I pedalled and discovered this most beautiful attractive village that markets toward sophisticated book-reading artist people like me/us.  For whilst Drigby is renowned for its whelk and mussel harvest, Coalsteeth is rather more lobster restaurant.  AND all the lifebelts above the waterline are in [good] working order.

  1. The tree

It may not be ambergris or jet but I retrieved a tree from the North Sea.  I gave the tree to Derick.  I feel there is love between us – blossoming as I have established credentials of great strength, and for his part Derick said ‘come September we’ll have a mushroom each to sit upon.’

If I find more trees I shall blog details, possibly market my sea trees, God knows where Neptune plants them all?

 

Adios

Comments

10 Comments

  • Barny
    by Barny 2 months ago
    Dear Mr Scarborough

    I am glad to read that your new employment is keeping you busy and apparerntly not in too much trouble. Presumably you have notified the HMRC that your employer has provided free transportation, can you share with us what the taxable value of a BMX is? Your diligence in lifebelt checking, toilet roll provision, and tree removal are most impressive. You and your squeeze Derick must be waiting with bated breath for the fog to clear and the clouds to lift, but as an agarophobic I will be disappointed when this happens because I will then be unable to leave home as I normally do every morning. BTW there are toadstools behind the Gents toilet.

    Regards
    Barny the dog walker
  • Mat
    by Mat 2 months ago
    Thank you citizen,

    Next time you have your cider party - PLEASE - dispose of tins in the receptacle(s) provided. Mat Superintendent-North. NOTE: I have a camera and I WILL use it when I can work it.
  • Barny
    by Barny 2 months ago
    How do you know about the cans - ah, you recognized my lipstick.
  • Dolly
    by Dolly 2 months ago
    I know this place, I came across it a few months ago, it was foggy then as well. Unfortunately I wandered off, got lost, and have been wandering ever since, god knows where I am now. You haven't seen me have you? I'm easily recognisable as I now have a bushy beard and a bemused, glazed look. If you do see me wandering aimlessly, could you please let me know via this website. We could then arrange to meet, and you could guide be back to somewhere recognisable, as you seem to have your finger on the pulse of modern living, with your posh job in an office. Please be quick, as the foghorns are driving me mad!
  • Mat
    by Mat 2 months ago
    Hello Dolly,
    Yes, as an executive coastal monitor I am most certainly able to assist. However, Monday & Tuesday I am rostered to the resort of Fogey - down the coast - back on Saturday if you can wait?
  • Dolly
    by Dolly 2 months ago
    Well, I'll try and hold out, although it could be a bit of a push. Fortunately, whilst stumbling through the fog I came across a small, but old fashioned sweet shop who was doing a brisk trade in earplugs. I bought a deluxe pair along with some Uncle Joe's mint balls, chocolate bon bons and a rather nice vanilla fudge. This little episode lightened my spirits somewhat, and the bleakness of my situation eased for a short while. By the way, the deluxe pair of earplugs I purchased are an excellent defence against the bloody foghorns! My beard has now become even bushier, which, along with the fancy deluxe earplugs, which are quite visible, should make me easily identifiable. See you Saturday! Bring some cake.
  • mike
    by mike 2 months ago
    Dear Matt,
    I lead the life of a recluse and meet few people but I occasionally talk to the stranger sitting next to me when I go to the theatre. This is either during the interval or queuing for tickets. The play that has aroused most interest has been Harold Pinter's 'The Birthday Party' which is as incomprehensible as it was when first staged. A major character is a deckchair attendant - the husband of the manager of a bed-sit in a coastal town.
  • Mat
    by Mat 2 months ago
    Well - I made friends with the deckchair attendant. He's very overweight, a big lad - talks about how he'd like to cycle and swim and paddle in the sea. He makes me sad. Actually, I talked to all of them on Tuesday - the ice-cream ladies, the bouncy castle impresario (sp?), chip woman. My verbal diarrhea was mighty, brilliant even. Same day I picked up my first dog shit. So that's what I talked about/dovetail.

    Pinter eh? I think I studied the B Party. The one that springs to mind is about a mini-cab radio controller. Certainly we shall have no Pinter after the revolution, only female-casted musicals about suffrage & emancipation, by my order, you, you reactionary...xx
  • Mat
    by Mat 2 months ago
    Yes, I'll talk to you Mike. No-one's talking to me today. The other 'Beach Chief Executive' lady - she said I was so good I might get the opportunity to walk up down Scarborough beach during Armed Forces Day. I'd rather f**king swim, anyway, chill Mat.
  • mike
    by mike 2 months ago
    It was in your other blogs - the theatre of the absurd. Before I read your blog, I had walked to my local supermarket which, for me, is a country path bordering a golf course. A woman was before me; bent down attending to her pooch which was doing its business. The pooch looked up at me with an expression of pure anguish on its face. Its owner looked up with a similar expression and said, “I’m sorry.”
    With hindsight, she might have said, “I’m sorry’ because she had blocked my path. She might also have apologised for not having a pooh bag, which, once filled, she would have tossed over the fence onto the golf course. She might just be sorry for her dog. Who knows!
    Thanks for the company. I took a redundancy package from work a few years ago which was a bit of a mistake as I do not have a family - or a car - so I am pretty much on my own.
    I watched a film of ;’The Birthday Party’ last night and the plot was clearer than in the play revival, I looked the film up on Wiki and Pinter wrote the script based on his play. He might have changed the plot. The film had been a box office disaster too. The theater goers said how difficult it is to spot a talent. One theater person said that he had seen Pinter act on the stage and he had been a fine actor.
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