It’s the afternoon of October 4th 2025. The last of storm Amy is battering the conservatory roof at my parents house. Maggie, my 1 year old cocker spaniel, is sleeping at my feet; her nose is still sandy from charging around on the beach at Hengistbury Head this morning. She has long curly ears and a white spot in the middle of her forehead, and she’s trouble – big trouble!
Our lives are upside down at the moment. I’ve just been through a messy break up and I’m feeling sore and lost. I know I need a space to be creative, to write down my thoughts and share our adventures.
Maggie and I do a lot together – the picture above is the view from the end of Fistral beach towards Towan Head; we visited in September, in the aftermath of another storm, when 50 mph winds had whipped the waves into foam. You could barely stand up on Towan Head. The sea was furious, clawing at the rocks, roiling and writhing and foaming at the mouth…but above the towering waves, the gannets still fished, black-tipped wings angled against the gale. In the churning shallows around the headland, a cormorant dived and resurfaced again, a wriggling fish in it’s mouth.
And I thought…how small they are against the mighty wrath of the ocean, how fragile against the noise and the pure force of the wind and water. But they still go out to meet it, day in and day out, no matter what it throws at them.
Life goes on, even in the storm – and if they can do it, so can we.
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