seafood – and eat it (thank’s Stan) festival
September 20, 2010
This weekend, the glamorous beauty from the May Day procession was given an airing again. She looks coyly around the lamp post! Strange to see deck chairs, parasols, palm trees, bits of arundo in the Winkle Island area. This grouping marks the entrance to the local Seafood and Wine Festival
This year we are directed further along the Stade to Rock-a-Nore as building works for the new Jerwood Gallery cover the Stade at the moment. This will be a public space for the events of this kind next year, we all hope – well, some of us do! There are lovely corridor views through the spaces between the tall fish net huts . . .
. . . bustling and busy . . tasting all kinds of food from local restaurants and suppliers and sipping and quaffing local ale and wines. I like these mackerel rolls that Amy and her mother from Judges Bakery are selling . . . crisp and juicy . . .
Visitors drifted onto the beach. The sea was calm until the water skiers got going but they entertained us with varying degrees of skill . . . dogs and children paddled and swam, artists painted and the gulls watched too . . .
Turning around to go back into the Old Town, I caught this glimpse of the Marina Building to the west.
It’s also Coastal Currents at the moment, when many artists studio are open to the visitors so, an opportunity to see into Oak Passage Studios behind George Street and capture this arrangement on a window sill.
I started Early—Took my Dog— And visited the Sea— The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me— And Frigates—in the Upper Floor Extended Hempen Hands— Presuming Me to be a Mouse— Aground—upon the Sands— But no Man moved Me—till the Tide Went past my simple Shoe— And past my Apron—and my Belt— And past my Bodice—too— And made as He would eat me up— As wholly as a Dew Upon a Dandelion's Sleeve— And then—I started—too— And He—He followed—close behind— I felt his Silver Heel Upon my Ankle—Then my Shoes Would overflow with Pearl— Until We met the Solid Town— No One He seemed to know— And bowing—with a Might look—
At me—The Sea withdrew ” I Started Early” Emily Dickinson