The Appalling Adventures of Andy

Please note that this is not my picture at all. It is by Jac originally and I have just indulged myself in a little rework because the image so entranced me. Please go to her blog and see the originals - you're in for a treat. The post to look for is called "Peek-a-Boo".

You may be able to copy this link and get there: http://northernshore.vox.com/library/post/peek-a-boo.html

Enjoy - and thank you Jac for an amazing image.

So there I was - although urgently on my way to the Copthorne Hotel - I was entranced by the beauty of this little scene.

It isn't a great picture, but it is nice enough to have me consider a return at a later date.

I might even try for a day/night shot. I love those, and the Tyne rarely fails to deliver - whichever direction one might pick.

The lights at night in a city are what make them a little bit magical, in my view.

I think how lonely and foreboding the city would have been when there was little more than the odd gas light here and there midst the smog.

The other oddity I note is that things which are bad for the earth as a whole, are so often beautiful.

The lights themselves use loads of electricity which is diminishing natural resources and adding to the carbon footprint. They look lovely, don't they? Oil and chemical pollution on the sea looks breathtaking when seen from a plane or helicopter above. Wonderful colours. Fireworks are fantastic to watch, yet they leave us shrouded in dank smog if too many go off in one place.

This seems to go in line with the oft-noted perception that things which taste nice are so often bad for us. Those lovely cream cakes, freshly cooked doughnuts, chocolates, deep fried food and almost anything made with lots of butter all have the capacity to taste sublime if done well - and yet the health experts tell us that they will send us to an early grave.

So, I am left with this impression that the nice things all have a nasty sting in the tail. Surely this is not true across the board? 

I hope not. I'm sick of having guilt thrust upon me, one way or another.

The day before yesterday, we went down to the beach.

The previous two days the weather had not been great and the normally restless waves had transformed into something more powerful and violent. The wind, usually strong, had become a gale, blowing over even some of the more permanent beach structures.

The sea had broken through the meagre defences and made it to the main road, leaving a dodgy area to ford to get back home. The beach was covered in a kind of multi-coloured spaghetti and accompanied by some sort of industrial froth. As I stood there, taking video of the sea, the wind blew sand into my face and my glasses were covered in salt in seconds.

It was quite an ugly scene, and it lasted a full two days. On the third day, the sun rose again. It was to be our last full day in Spain. Despite the waves not quite being back to normal, we decided to have a last day on the beach and make the most of the improved weather.
The wind was still quite strong -  yet not so hard  as on the first day we went to the beach. We decided to take a dip in the sea.

I say "we", I mean Liz and myself. We were careful not to go too deep and it was fun. I had some eye-goggles on which I found at a local supermarket and so the sea-water did not trouble my eyes the way it had done previously.

I felt a little bit invincible.

After the dip, I came to shore to dry off and we all basked in the sun for a while, till it was nearly time to go. I decided to have one last dip in the sea, and Louise joined me.

At first it was just as before, the sea is shallow - very shallow - never coming above my waist, except for when the waves came by. It's a weird dynamic. The waves crash to shore all the time, barely a gap between them, but in those small gaps, one is left standing in little more than a puddle. The only way to even attempt to swim is to go a bit deeper.

So I did - and it was great. I got into a rhythm of turning my back to the waves and enjoying the sea high enough to almost swim in. I got to thinking that if I just went a touch deeper, maybe I could strike out and swim a little bit. Maybe the waves would just be swells a bit further out.

It was at this point that I came as close to dying as I have ever been. A wave came past and swept me off my feet. I recovered, but another wave came straight after it. I took a big mouthful of water, and was unable to to take a proper breath. Now I was short of air and the next wave hit - the aftermath dragging me further out to sea.

I was caught in a negative loop that left me unable to get sufficient breath, unable to swim and at the same time leaving the shore rapidly behind. The shouts of the children became distant and it was quiet, apart from the crashes of the waves and those underwater bubbling sounds. There were lots of them. I couldn't keep my head above water and I couldn't suck in sufficient air. I was in the first stages of drowning.

The difference between safety and peril was about eight feet for me. I noticed I was getting tired, too. Everything was an effort, and the sea was controlling me. "Not so invincible now", I remember thinking. Then, something great happened, a little lull in the waves came. I called out to a man not too far in front of me. For the first time in my life I used the word "Help!" for real. I wasn't sure I could make it on my own.

This man, God bless him, was very calm and spoke helpfully to me. "Just go with the waves, and you'll be OK." So I did. With what felt like the last of my strength I leaned forward with the waves as they broke around me and tried to hold my ground as the ebb pulled me backwards. Gradually it became clear that I was making progress. The shouts of the children became louder and the shore seemed more real.

I realised I was going to be fine, and I just felt like a great big fool. I learned that things like this really could happen to me. I learned a new respect for the sea, that such a small distance can spell the difference between great fun and mortal danger. In short, there is a line we simply should not cross - yet I so often do. Mostly through sheer ignorance, but sometimes through pride, arrogance and a mis-placed belief that I am stronger than I really am.

I stumbled through the shallows, taking time to draw plenty of breaths before meeting my two companions on the beach. There were unsure as to whether I had had fun or not, though I sensed some concern. I felt unable to voice how close it had been. I didn't want to over-hype the situation, and it was still sinking in to me. I has affected me quite deeply, though. My mind keeps coming back to those pivotal moments when it could have gone either way. If the alarm had been raised, would they have been able to get in and save me? I'm glad I never had to find out. I am eternally grateful to the man whose kind and helpful words enabled me to focus my efforts and not to panic too much.

I'm a little happier than normal to be back home.

Surely this is a little troubling - or is it just me?

The trouble is, there are so many distractions - like making blog post-

Mmm...better leave it there.