Friday 23 September 2016

It's getting cold and also dark




The summer in Tenby is over. The crowds are diminishing at a rapid pace, with only walkers and young families clinging on to the hope of an Indian summer at reduced rate hotels. You can see them wandering grimly around the soggy streets, having mini breakdowns over the lack of change for the car park, Dad's four nicotine patches peeling away and Mum's gritted smile practically chipping off bits of her teeth.

The nights are edging in in surges of encroaching darkness and the temperature recedes almost daily. Tenby is now winding down: customer service is at an all time low and nobody gives a shit about a bad trip advisor review. Staff are so unfathomably exhausted from long hours and relentlessly busy weeks that there no longer lies a person behind their dark-bagged eyes, just a cold stone wall of hatred. Nobody is restocking anymore, you can chose between a shit burger, a shit curry or a shit lasagne, all frozen, and all microwaved by the glass collector who's covering the chefs extended fag break, more than likely flapping about the kitchen in a cloud of dandruff with unwashed hands and the pungent smell of puberty (read:old jiz). Bon Apetit.

The harbour shows the most obvious signs of autumnal-ness. The boat trips are becoming fewer and less populated, passengers are no longer distinguishable from one another in their outdoor kit, just small, quivering hoods bracing against the elements.
 The booking offices have gone back to looking like the sheds that they are, once teeming with people, inviting in custom and organising change, writing tickets and answering phone calls, they now sit inanimately, observing the odd wotsit packet whirling in the wind, or getting urinated on by dogs.

Cars can now pass through town easily, without having to stop every half a foot to avoid ploughing down some small twat on a micro scooter, its satanic face covered with some unnaturally-coloured sugary residue, or some old dear wandering in the middle of the road, farting audibly, not hearing the impatient shouts of her grandchildren to 'get off the road, Grandma'.

Despite it's un-ignorable irritations, the summer has been a very welcome intermission in the seemingly endless journey to recovery on my busted-up foot. The everyday intricacies of being on a boat have fed my water-centric soul and replenished my general happiness tenfold. Being on the water is by far my preferable state of being and there hasn't been a single day this summer that I have woken up and had that desperate disinterest in going to work.

I've decided to give a winter in Pembs a bash and am looking forward to getting my life back in some sort of order. Evenings spent reading inside and windy walks along the coast are on the cards, and I'm pretty keen to try and get back on a board, despite doctors saying it's unlikely to be possible with my gacky foot.

It's been a long while since I had my own space, having spent the last few years sofa surfing, sleeping on (punctured) inflatable mattresses and living a Harry Potter-esque life in spare rooms and other small spaces. But I have now found somewhere to live through the winter, in a lovely house in a great location in Tenby, and I'm looking forward to not living out of a suitcase for a while.

Winters in Pembs have historically consisted of everyone I know conveniently finding the love of their life just when all the fun and sunshine stops, pairing up with completely unsuitable partners in a desperation not unlike that of a Love Island contestant with nothing but z-list fame to live for.  Luckily this year most of my friends are emotionally damaged and alone (score!) so I perceive there to be some companionship to be had. I look forward to trying to get any of them in the sea over the colder months, me cheerfully gushing about the benefits of icy water rushing over your head while they look at me with equal parts of affectionate humour and genuine concern.

Things appear to be looking up *shocked cat emoji* - with my last operation happening soon, writing work in place over the winter and plans to get my boatmasters, there may actually be potential for me to get through the rest of the year without topping myself. I am very happy with that forecast and look forward to seeing what fun there is to be had.