Friday, 25 January 2013

Costa Arse Over Tit

Do you remember the gorgeous gilet that I bought three months back?  Well, it's been out of service for the last month after I had a slippy accident.  Nothing that drying the mud completely and then attacking it with a clothes brush hasn't sorted out without the expense of a trip to the dry cleaners that I suspect many people would have made in a similar scenario.

This is the beach where it happened, at Shoeburyness, the easternmost part of the borough of Southend-on-Sea.  It's dead gorgeous and has an peaceful ambiance that's poles apart from the 'Golden Mile' of amusement arcades and razzmatazz a few miles further west along the coast.  'East Beach' is kosher public territory but this stretch of sand to its right?  Well, I'm not so sure.  Even though the Internet indicates it's a no-go area for the public, military land.  But the signage at its boundary is ambiguous, so Lou and I decided to have a poke around.

Perhaps the lack of a proper path down to the sand is a giveaway to whether you're supposed to be there or not.  Whoosh! I went over and got covered from top to toe in sticky reddish mud.  Hence today's title.  Any chance of sneaking my way into the life of the bloke in the covetable £600K modernist apartment who watched our antics with interest was out of the question.  Those types with swanky designer pads don't normally go for the mudlark look, especially in image conscious Essex.

this is Louis' booty from our trip.  Great big hulking bits of metal which must have reduced my mpg consumption on the trip back to Devon.  I hope they're just debris from wrecks. However given that the military heritage of the area and the fact that explosives are periodically dug up by unsuspecting bait diggers, I wouldn't be surprised if I returned home one day to find the side of the house blown away!

1 comment:

  1. As a small chid. I remember holiday walks along the beach at Shoeburyness. I was utterly fascinate dby its name as much as anything!

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