Left My Soul There Down By The Sea

When I need to unwind and relax I conjure up a picture in my mind.

I see myself relaxing on a beach, lying there in the warm sun as it rises or sets. Next to me is Mrs PM, holding my hand and leaning her head against my shoulder. The waves are gently lapping against shore.

The image at the start of this post was taken in Port Douglas, Australia on the morning of our arrival as the sun rose over the Coral Sea and, although it was almost eight years ago, I still see it every single day, both at work and at home.

Why?

Because the image is my background picture on my work laptop, my home laptop, my desktop and my Nexus 7.

When I feel the need to escape from the stresses of everyday life, I find that by staring at that image, I can momentarily immerse myself into the tranquillity of the memory invoked by the photograph.

Ultimately I would like to retire to the seaside, whether it be a cold and breezy British shore or a warm and relaxing southern European beach somewhere.

I’ve even strolled along the promenade at Blackpool on Boxing Day with a biting, icy wind blowing all of the cobwebs from my addled mind; the cold wind and the sound of waves crashing on the shore brings a clarity to my mind – and peace.

I am happiest when I am by the sea – but not in the sea.

I am quite happy to watch the waves, smell the sea air and let the wind carry me away to a restful place in my mind. The thought of stepping into the sea summons an altogether different feeling – one of fear.

I’m not such a scaredy cat that I won’t actually set foot in the water (although Australia is the exception on that front); I just don’t like the things in it.

First of all, I’m not a huge fan of sand. Some people love walking barefoot on the beach and letting the wet sand cling to their feet.

I hate it. Sand gets everywhere. I hate the feeling of it in between my toes and under my toenails. The feeling makes my teeth itch. When I walk on a beach I have to wear sandals and even though they protect me from most of the sand, I still find myself having to wash the sand off my feet as I leave.

And I have another confession, dear reader. I hate seaweed. I hate the feel of it and the look of it. It all stems from an episode in my childhood. I was around five years old and sitting watching television, safely in my own living room with my parents at my side.

Dr Who was on.

I loved Dr Who – I still do – but this particular story scared the shit out of me. It was called Fury From The Deep and basically featured monsters made out of seaweed that terrorised a North Sea gas refinery.

Fast forward a couple of years and I found myself standing in the sea in Brighton, screaming blue murder while standing in about five inches of sea water.

My dad rushed to my aid and asked what was wrong. I pointed down to my feet and he simply laughed – but saved me all the same. My legs had become entangled with seaweed and in my immature and childlike imagination, the seaweed monsters had come to get me.

Even now, when I swim in the sea, I find myself shuddering in utter disgust if seaweed touches me or drifts to the vicinity of where I am swimming.

I love waves as long as they are small. Big waves are bad.

On a holiday to San Sebastian in Spain, I decided to go for a swim. I noticed that the waves were pretty big but I thought I was a strong enough swimmer to cope with them. I waded out into the sea and started swimming away from the shore. The waves were getting quite big so I stopped swimming and decided to turn back. To my horror I found that I was out of my depth and my feet couldn’t quite touch the bottom.

I decided to tread water and let the waves carry me back ashore. It worked – sort of.

I was floating in the water and noticed a young woman about twenty feet ahead of me.

And then I saw it.

A huge wave was approaching fast.

The woman pushed herself up to try to ride the wave. She failed. It hit her full on and I saw her silhouette in the water as it washed over her and bowled her over completely. I saw feet where her head should have been and as the wave reared up in front of me like a giant leviathan, only one two thoughts entered my head:

        “I hope there isn’t any seaweed in that wave."

    “OH SHIT!!!!”

The wave hit me and I kind of lost track of time for a few seconds. All I remember is being overwhelmed by the sound of water smashing against my head. I had no sense of where I was and had no idea what had happened. I was like a marionette and powerless to fight back against the unknown forces assailing me.

When the ordeal was over, just a few seconds later, I found myself lying on the beach having been washed ashore. My swimming trunks had opted to give a few people a great view of my arse. Thankfully I was face down and I managed to pull up my trunks before too many people reeled back in horror.

Sadly that was when I realised my trunks were full of sand – and seaweed.

I staggered out of the water like a demented seaweed monster from Dr Who, much to the delight of my mates who had seen the entire thing from the comfort of their sunbeds.

The final horror of the sea are the creatures that live within. Billy Connolly once said that we are not ever supposed to be in the sea but are too stupid to take the hint; the hint being that creatures in the sea bite us, sting us and eat us.

I refused to go snorkelling at the Great Barrier Reef because of box jellyfish, irukandji and sharks.

I have been snorkelling in Barbados and the Bahamas but on one occasion I almost added my contribution to existing marine excrement when a huge grey fish swan past me.

Of course it was just a harmless fish but to me, viewing it underwater and without my glasses, I thought it was Jaws ready to have Plastic Mancunian for lunch.

In conclusion, I want to be beside the seaside – not in the sea. My ultimate plan is to spend my time strolling by a beach somewhere in the world, watching the sun rise or set and enjoying the beauty and tranquillity of nature.

Here are a couple of relaxing songs that remind me of the peace, beauty and tranquillity of the sea.

And my dearest hope is that the writers of Fury From The Deep didn’t base the story on real life events.

It Only Takes A Minute

Last week I arrived back home from a holiday in Bodrum, Turkey.

In Turkey I was happy.

In Turkey I was relaxed.

On Wednesday I went to work. I logged in and opened my emails and found approximately one gazillion of the bloody things all of which were fighting each other for my attention.

It took a minute for me to succumb to stress. It took another minute for the anger bug to bite me on the arse.

It was as if I hadn’t been away at all. Sitting there at my desk I found myself pining for the sunshine, begging for the beach and missing those lazy days by the pool.

One day I shall dwell on why my job pisses me off but for this post, I shall endeavour to be positive and reminisce about our holiday.

I had never been to Turkey before so I was really excited about visiting a new country. I would have preferred to have travelled around a little and experienced the less commercial aspects of the country but both Mrs PM and I were in desperate need of a lot of rest and relaxation. The lure of the tourist traps, beaches, swimming pools and sunshine were too much to bear.

I won’t bore you with the daily details of our holiday but I will emphasize some of the more memorable experiences (well as memorable as a week long package holiday by the sea can allow).

Here are some of the highlights:

(1) Our hotel was full of Turks so we were spared the usual British home from home experience that a lot of my compatriots feel they need to make their holiday special. Barely a word of English was spoken, allowing us to get a small taste of being in a foreign land. The Turkish holiday makers were keen to have fun though and the pool area was a hive of activity with Turkish holiday reps dragging people up to perform silly dances, sing silly songs and generally have fun. We watched with amusement as the reps performed a Turkish song similar to Agadoo with a comparable silly dance. Mrs PM was tempted to join in but resisted at the last minute.

(2) It was hot – very hot – bordering on being too hot. Our hotel was at the top of a hill and on the first day we embarked on a massive walk exploring the local town before climbing the hill back to our hotel when we had had enough. We ended up slightly lost and the hill was extremely steep. By the time we found our way to the hotel we were both almost dead. Mrs PM almost threw up and I flopped onto a chair in the hotel bar, barely able to say “water”. We sat there for twenty minutes sipping water supplied by a very kind barman with sweat pouring off our bodies. We decided that we would take taxis from that point on.

(3) Turkey is the first Muslim country I have visited and at one point we were enjoying the sunset over Bodrum Harbour when the signal for prayers came from the local mosque. I was fascinated by this. Turkey seems to be quite relaxed when it comes to religion and while there might be a few devout Muslims, most people carried on with their business.

(4) The food was brilliant. I had to try a Donner Kebab and it arrived, sizzling on a hotplate. It was wonderful. Turks love their food and I was very impressed with the cuisine generally. There wasn’t a single meal that I didn’t enjoy.

(5) Turkish men are very friendly and very forward, particularly with women. On the first night we were enticed into an open air bar and within five minutes a waiter had demonstrated to me how Turkish men greet each other. He kissed me on each cheek (he needed a shave) and within seconds he was holding Mrs PM’s hands and hugging her. He offered free drinks to the “young, romantic and sexy couple”. Mrs PM loved the attention but I wondered whether he was very short sighted, describing me as “sexy”. We were offered free shooters in this bar and a few others too. Thankfully we were fairly sensible about it and only had a mild hangover the next day (not a good idea in the heat). Most restaurants and bars we visited were similar with the waiters and owners offering us various things “on the house” (like Apple Tea, Raki and even a small fish in one place). Wonderful hospitality.

(6) A couple of the friendly waiters were quite surprised to discover that I was forty eight years old. One guy in particular said I looked about thirty two. What a charmer he was.

(7) We embarked upon a boat trip that was extremely good fun. There was “free beer” available but it was so weak that I stuck to coke. The food, however, was very good and we were able to plunge off the boot into the Aegean Sea to cool down. The highlight was watching the Turkish crew performing their traditional Turkish dancing on the top deck of the boat while other passing boats watched with a mixture of fascination and enjoyment. A very nice day.

Our original plan had been to see some of the local sights, particularly places like Ephesus. Sadly after the first day we decided that it was simply too hot to spend six hours travelling to the place and another three hours walking around. In a sense, I’m glad for two reasons.

First, it gave me a chance to really relax, spending days by the pool, reading, listening to music and swimming.

Second, it gives us an excuse to go back. The next time we go, our destination will be somewhere closer to Ephesus or Izmir. It also makes sense to go when it is a little cooler, perhaps in May or September.

I am quite excited at the prospect of visiting Istanbul also – perhaps that’s yet another trip.

To summarise, Turkey is a great place. It is relatively cheap, very friendly, as excellent food and there is a lot to see and do.

I would recommend it.

Now then, I have to make inroads into this huge heap of jobs that have piled up.

If you can read the future, dear reader, and are willing to share next week’s lottery numbers with me I would be most grateful. In the meantime I shall post a few photos on my photo blog when I get round to it.

Still, every cloud has a silver lining - we're off to Ibiza in a few weeks - and I can't wait!