Showing posts with label Tyrella. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tyrella. Show all posts

3.4.16

Tyrella


Back to the beach where we played in the sand,
time didn't matter and nothing was planned.

Back to the sea that made us squeal from the cold,
laughing and splashing, no care in the world.

Back to those rocks that are made for adventure,
hands dipped in pools, just never quite sure...

Back to the place with the pockets of treasure,
so many shells all tumbled together.

Back to the beach to watch my kids play
next to the shadows of yesterday.


Linking up with Photolife's My Sunday Photo and Victoria's Prose for Thought

3.6.15

A Favourite Place


I've done a lot of wandering up and down this beach. It's near Tyrella by the Mountains of Mourne in Northern Ireland, and we spent all the childhood summers I can remember, in a small cottage a stone's throw from here.

I don't know how we all managed to squeeze in; often there'd be the six of us, plus cousins and Granny, but you don't think about things like that when you're small do you; it's just the way it was.

What I remember is the mismatched china; lucky bags; ulster fries; an army of earwigs in my felt tip case and swing-ball battles. And just lying on the big bed in the main room, colouring in with my sisters, while mum cooked over the fire beside us in large blackened pans. Life at the cottage was pretty close to camping. There was no electricity and we drew water from a deep well in the garden. Best of all the chemical loo was in a marvellous old sentry box with a sea view my Grandad had picked up in a salvage yard. There were two other tiny rooms off the main one and mum had quite ingeniously managed to shoe-horn in three, three tiered bunks she bought when Armagh prison closed down and all the contents were sold off.

So we slept on our prison beds in sleeping bags full of sand, with a night light flickering beside us. The stuff childhood memories are made of.

Back to the beach and the reason for all the walking, because on the whole kids don't tend to be the keenest walkers, and I was no exception, but the thing is I loved hunting for shells. I'd spend hours wandering slowly along the tidelines, collecting any that caught my eye. The prize finds were always cowries and pelican's feet because there weren't so many, and I did become annoyingly good at finding them.

No surprise then that my daughter has caught the shell-seeking bug...with a gentle push from me obviously, and on a trip to Tyrella a while ago the two of us wandered up the beach together and collected a bucketful of shells. We used them to make mice and pram ladies - I remember doing this with Mum, right down to brushing on a shiny coat of clear nail varnish.


I'm fond of this picture with the sea mist softening lines and colours - she almost looks like she's floating. It was strange old weather, with blustery showers, heavy skies, sun and mist, though not so unusual for a beach day in Northern Ireland...


Funny, I don't really remember it raining during those summers by the sea.


Many more favourite places to peruse over at Tara's Photo Gallery.

12.6.12

Day 202 - Shell Seekers

There is something pretty special about taking your children to a place brimming with happy childhood memories.
Every summer without fail we used to go on holiday to a small cottage, a field away from a beautiful beach near Tyrella in Northern Ireland. There was no electricity, we had to draw water from a well and the outside loo was an old sentry box. I remember my granny cooking over an open fire; card games, swingball, sand in my sleeping bag and looking for shells. I LOVED looking for shells. I spent hours on the beach, walking along slowly with my head bowed, searching the tide line.
I must have talked about it a lot, because my enthusiasm seems to have rubbed off on my daughter. So much so that I promised I'd take her to my shell beach when we were over staying with my mum last week.
No amount of miserable weather was going to put her off: she waited by the door, bucket and spade in hand until everyone was ready to go. It was her dad's last day with us before he headed back to Afghanistan, so making the most of the grey day felt like the right thing to do.

We were lucky - we caught a small window of dry weather. Still cold though; but before you could say 'where's my jumper' she was running about in her cozzy.... 
The boys warmed up with some running..
moments later they were jumping waves....in their jeans. Daft loons.
Everything about the beach felt so familiar, and the shells were as good as ever. The kids helped me gather some up for a little project I had in mind. All the time I was scanning the colourful piles, searching for that little, elusive gem of the shell world...
...a COWRIE.
Finding one has always been special, and boy was I excited when I did! No playing it down in front of the kids. It was like finding treasure - I was yelling and waving it about....showing off basically! We found 12 altogether.




On the way back we stopped off to get a tube of glue. My plan was to see what we could make out of our shell collection - another thing I used to love doing. Now it does require a bit of patience, but worth it I think; and after a quick coat of clear nail varnish, this is what we came up with. 
Lovely little reminders of our day on the beach. 

Linking up with Country Kids over at Coombe Mill

and Suzanne's Oldies but Goodies!