The Lure of the Atlantic Coast

I have been gadding about this week, meeting close old friends on at least three separate occasions. I would like to say I got my act together to meet up because of my new Do It Now approach, but it was in fact a series of serendipitous events in each case which led to the diary entry.

Tuesday’s meeting was for example generated by my phone randomly dialing a number all by itself. I should clearly let it do its own thing more often.

But the fascinating link between all three meetings was that each friend had in some way recently had a very positive creative and meditative experience after having spent time in relative solitude somewhere near the Atlantic coast.

Now what are the chances of that? All are of a similar age to me, but none know each other. One was in Cornwall, one was on the west coast of Ireland, and one was on the west coast of Scotland. If you throw into this intriguing set of coincidences my own delightful and inspiring sojourn on the ile de Ré just off the French Atlantic coast just two months ago, it starts to look quite uncanny.

All experienced the extreme changeable weather common to each location with equanimity and patience and a degree of fondness. The Cornish cottage may have been damp, but it was delightfully restful. The Irish homestead withstood three days of hurricane but provided a warm and cosy refuge. The cube overlooking the Scottish loch was an oasis of tranquillity despite the cold winds.

I wanted to set off and visit all three locations as soon as possible. I can but dream.


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