Writing for Fun
Seagulls Over Shoebury - Gwenda Syratt
August 2014
Toby watched the one legged nervous seagull balance expertly on the sea wall surrounded by jostling gulls pecking at the bread Toby had placed on the wall in front of the beach hut. He knew their ways well. He had heard of seagulls being spiteful, snatching a sandwich out of your hand, pecking at your head. The seagulls along this coastline were much smaller and very nervous of people. If someone was sitting close to the wall or walking past, the seagulls would hover in the sky until they felt safe to swoop down. Their communication network was amazing, not even a black spot could be seen in the sky when placing titbits onto the wall and within a minute twenty or thirty birds would be in the race for the food. Sometimes Toby would throw the bread into the sky and be amazed at how many birds could catch his gift in flight.
Toby's dad had died when he was nine and his mother decided they needed something special in their lives. As money was going to be tight and school holidays were expensive she hit on the idea of a beach hut and went to the bank to borrow the money. The bank manager was reluctant to part with any money for a beach hut. ' It is very vulnerable, Mrs Taylor' he explained, 'Extreme weather conditions makes upkeep expensive, vandalism is rife along the seafront at night, fire, theft, storm damage . . . He couldn't think of any other negative points off the top of his head and ended with, 'All these things have destroyed many huts completely.'
Mrs Taylor explained her brother and family would be helping to maintain the hut and vandalism, storm damage, theft and fire would be covered by insurance. That morning, Mrs Taylor walked out of the bank with a smile on her face and joy in her heart and this is where their other special life began.
It was March when the hut was purchased with absolutely everything anyone would need inside. Cutlery, crockery, table, chairs, beds, a full gas stove, saucepans, frying pans, kettle, absolutely everything, including an inflatable dinghy. Seeing Mrs Taylor's amazed and delighted expression the previous owner explained that is quite usual with the sale of a beach hut, we have all we need at home. he explained, no need to double up. And so Toby, his mum, and family sailed into the summer season with ease.
Sometimes Toby and his mother had quiet days there; just the two of them but mostly the hut was the meeting place for family and friends. School holidays were wonderful, Toby's friends all enjoyed playing football, swimming, walking out on the mud and taking the dinghy into the sea. 'Not too far,' called Mrs Taylor.
They became part of the close-knit community keeping an eye on each other's beach huts and getting to know a little about each other's lives.
The beach huts were often used as a back drop for TV advertisements it was not unusual to see a film crew there. One day Sofie Ellis Bextor was being filmed. Toby thought she was beautiful and was thrilled when she stopped to chat to them. 'Who's that?' asked granddad, delighting in a beautiful young woman joining the family for a chat. 'I've no idea,' said grandma.
On rainy days, inside the beach hut it was cosy and warm, with a glass patio door it was light and they could still see the waves and birds. They would put up the drop-leaf table and play board games, word games and even eye spy for the younger ones.
Mum would cook great meals on the stove connected to a gas cylinder; the pop of the gas and the whistle of the kettle were all part of the beach hut sounds.
'Let's have a beach hut party for family and friends,' suggested Mum one lazy summer's day and she immediately brought pen and paper to her deck chair to make the inevitable list.
'We could have a sandcastle competition for the younger children, a treasure hunt and ball games for the older ones.'
'And dominoes for the really old ones,' said Uncle David with a smile.
Mum and her brother enjoyed thinking of the clues for the treasure hunt. They decided for the sandcastle competition each child that entered would receive a certificate of achievement and Uncle David printed a very good certificate from his computer.
On the day, Mrs Taylor had asked the Foreshore Inspector to have a look at the finished castles and then the inspector made the presentation. The children's eyes shone with pride and it was a day they were never to forget.
October came and the hut needed to be painted to preserve it from the long harsh winter wind and rain. 'What colour shall we have?' asked Mum. 'I think pink would be lovely – a Mediterranean feel.'
'I think blue,' said Toby, 'seaside blue.'
'To be really seaside I think yellow and white stripes – like a deck chair,' said Uncle David.
'How can we paint stripes,' said Toby.
'We use masking tape, don't worry I will show you how to do it,' said Mum.
'Shall we choose a name?' asked Toby?
'Yes,' said Mrs. Taylor, 'How about 'Waters Edge?''
'Too ordinary,' said Uncle David. 'I suggest, 'Life's a beach,' he chuckled.
Toby thought of the beautiful graceful seagulls that swooped over the hut and waited for him to feed them. 'I think,' said Toby very seriously, 'Seagulls over Shoebury.'
And on that they all agreed.