Our disappointment. Our solemn walks along the shore (we’d long since moved to the coast, by then.) Along Longsands. Kind Edwards’s beach. Up to St Mary’s Lighthouse. Up to Seaton Sluice. All the way to Blyth, sometimes.
Our mourning ferry trips, from North Shields to South Shields and back again. Our grief chips, eaten in North shields, looking out at the waters. Our mussels of sorrow. Our cockles of melancholy. Our crab rolls of infinite desolation. Our fish ‘n ‘chips wakes.
Work in Progress 