I love English seasides. The grey skies, the grey sea. The wind. The cold. The long, wide stretches of sand. The rugged, weathered cliffs. But it’s atmospheric. Good for contemplating and appearing to be artistic. That’s what I tell my Italian friends who fail to appreciate such delights. Usually, it’s not possible to recreate the English beach experience in Rome, but yesterday I managed it. Drinks at a beach front cafe, watching the grey waves crash into the shore through rain steamed windows. Perfect. And then the sun came out.
If you were trying to recreate Britain at the moment you would need an icy blast of wind, flurry of snowflakes and lots of disgruntled people trying to keep hold of their candyfloss!!!! x
Never mind the poor donkeys! x
Tried to add an English touch myself, throwing out a picnic rug and munching on cheese rolls with my seven year old twins. They were delighted to wriggle their toes in the sand and not at all put off by having to consume the odd grain when the wind picked up. Of course, the well wrapped-up Italians smiled knowingly at each other as they walked by, over-hearing us speak in English to one another. 'It was obvious they aren't Italian' one said loudly to the other, confident we couldn't understand. We all laughed. I feel proud to be a mum of bilingual children; but even prouder that, despite being brought up in Italy, they love to wriggle their toes in the cold sand and to munch on those stray grains…
Nowt like sand sandwiches, oh the days spent eating lunch in gale force winds wishing my mum and dad would at least buy a wind break …