So I've been in London for, say almost 3 years now, and I've always missed home most in the summer. I still do... the air especially - so fresh it catches in the throat. Or the kaleidoscopic landscapes, colours and shapes rolling by through the window of a car, framed by the sea or lavender mountains.
As the sun is setting, usually around 9-ish these days, I find myself wandering down to my favourite spot. With my back to the Tate and St. Paul's directly opposite and to the right of my eyeline, I take all in and watch the sun set over Blackfriars bridge. I love the colours the sun dabbles with as it descends. Soft fluffs of pink, acquamarine and gold dust the sky and ripple the water with a silvery shimmer, reminding me of the silky winter light as it hits the sand and sea at Inch, Kerry.
Sitting out by the steps that lead down to the sand, I relish dangling my toes out over the edge of the high drop, watching miniature waves as they flop onto the sand. There's something universally soothing about the sound of water crashing, churning, washing back and forth and the faint smell of sea in the air. I sit and breathe and enjoy... Like a gentle rub or tender hug, sitting out here can help to still my emotions... calming... relaxing... Or sometimes, to heighten them, churning like the waves, with the residue of foam left to simmer on the shore.