Celebration and mourning…

CHRIS BENNETT returns reflectively to the back page of the South Coast Herald.

IT is extraordinary how the loss of a close friend can change the world in the twinkling of an eye.

English people, the tribe to which I belong, are reserved at the best of times, and even more so at the worst. We are not prone to wearing our hearts on our sleeves. Grief and mourning are very, very private. But they are none the less for all that.

In this, the worst of times, the recent celebrations have helped distract from the awful chasm that life now seems to have become. It will, of course, not last forever.

The remarkable support and generosity of family and friends has been a profound source of comfort.

I am, by necessity, in the process of moving house. Somebody once observed that the two most traumatic experiences we can undergo are the loss of a loved one and moving house. Twaddle. Moving house is a bit trying I’ll grant you, but the two experiences are not even remotely similar.

I have a tendency to live a somewhat Victorian lifestyle. My home is as cluttered as my mind. I propose to change that; at least the home part anyway.

Living in our delightful climate (Christmas notwithstanding) makes most dark clouds sail away. Few things are more beautiful than the horizon of the ocean on a clear and bright day.

Somebody asked my a few days ago if I had had a happy Christmas. Well, I was surrounded by happy and caring people and so I think, yes, I had a happy Christmas. Nevertheless it did strike me as being a strange question, a bit like the reporter who asked, “Apart from that Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?”

The traffic at our end of the line has been ridiculous; as I am sure it has for all of us. One of the things I enjoy about the South Coast is not having to leave it unless I choose to; and then it would be for only a week or two. It probably stems from my childhood growing up in a Victorian seaside resort, complete with pier and funfair. the rock candy had the name of the town all the way through it, and I still don’t know how they do that.

We are truly fortunate that people come to enjoy themselves and frolic about on the beaches, the likes of which I could not even dream of as a lad. Even though times may be a bit rough, which is not all that unhealthy when you come to think of it, people still manage to get here and spend.

A belated very happy new year to you; I hope you will excuse my slightly morose tone this week. It is a delight to be writing again.