It has taken forty years and to become agoraphobic to realise I want to a home by the sea. Maybe an affinity with water has always existed somewhere that I never felt so strong as I have these past five years or so. My uncle was a sailor and looking back through my family tree I see many at one with the sea. My grandfather was in the merchant navy and his grandfather was a stoker on the river Mersey, his grandfather an engineer on a steamer between the Mersey and the Clyde.
Somewhere in my blood at calling from the sea. But it definitely never felt that way previously. In fact I hated being on water. I remember feeling ill on channel crossings to France and Ireland. I remember being terrified during the night at the crashing seas and high waves as we made our way to Rotterdam. I remember how unsteady I felt just slowly gliding down the Rhine. Maybe just near it then not on it. Near enough of touch.
And that feeling of touch is one that has been with me the past few years in regards to water. Thinking back the last time I actually saw the seas was nearly seven years ago at Loch Lomond with my family as the anxiety was just starting. Since then I have been seeking water and only found it twice but as realistic as they were they were both man made. A small stream running through an African jungle bizarrely surround by grey decay of urban squalor a mile from my home. The other Strathclyde loch, pictured above, which used to be a village in by gone years and now is filled with water.
About the loch. Its about two years since I was last there even though its only a couple of miles from home. And I was there crouched by the water's edge desperate to do a Reggie Perrin sorta, well wade in at least with clothes intact. What brought this memory back was opening the local paper yesterday to find that a few weekends ago 70 people took part in a swimming contest there and over 50 of them were ill with norovirus. So probably just as well I did not go in. Water to be admired rather than ingested.
Not sure why I am harping on about my love of water and missing it as a mass. You'd think I'd be sick of the sight of water by now. Nearly half way through July and stick the skies bucket down and the blue remains hidden behind the dark grey. Depressing stuff. I was thinking the other day about how the boy could have done with Crocs for the summer but truth is he needs Wellies.
Anyway I am mumbling on. Head just drifting in places I would rather me. Still working on the anxiety to some extent with some successes. Went into the shopping centre for the first time this year the other day on a whim. Today sat in a benched area for 5 minutes which doesn't sound a lot but is very good for me. Little things to build on and keep building on. A little confidence here and there. Taking control. Being wiser to see where control has been wrestled from and taking it back. Little things as I say but better times for it even if only in as equally small increments. I waffle.
Just to say I would like to see the sea. I would like to be able to sit without running away and just sit somewhere on a rock watching the sea waves crash, hearing them crash. And maybe that is my anxiety finding a route into my thoughts. The surroundings are so drab around here. Maybe I need that place to find that peace by the sea.
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