The mist creeps seawards.

The sea rattling against the pebbles;
Mist, sky and sea, altogether;
Rusty steel collars of the well-rotted
Wooden uprights along the breakwater;
Flints and conglomerates pebble banked
Between the sea and the promenade;
Black headed gulls floating idly
On a dull-grey, flat sea;
Red floats mark the lobster pots;
An inshore fishing boat is anchored;
Two anglers, squat patiently in a small boat.

The mist creeps shorewards.

White painted houses with red roofs,
Start to hide themselves in the mist;
The air cools and a whisper of wind
Chills your neck and forehead;
The sea dies and the tide turns;
Loud hammering comes from the pier,
Accompanied by the rasp of a plane;
The arrogant sound of a car-horn
Stabbing and wounding the quiet;
The impatient slam of car doors,
And, “Dad, where’s the sea? Eh?”

“Where’s the sea? Its all mist!”

Promenade based amusement:
Bingo and Bandits and Space Invaders;
Beer, cigs, smelly feet and bad breath;
See the sea – “Its all misty.”
“But we can spend fourteen days
at the Amusement Arcades
and never see the sea at all!”