WOODSIDE

Gurnard,  Isle of Wight 1956

A scattering of ancient holiday chalets and timber shingled bungalows hang like coloured beads, peeping out from the wooded crumbling undercliff. Wild winter seas often demanded a sacrifice of land or dwelling, pulverising all before into the clay and sand turning everything into matchwood and dross leaving all to the swirling black eddies and boiling foam. It had been the same tantrumus seas that had claimed the steep stepped path that wound down from the 'High Road', which had cut the Bay off from the few shops and buses, like the spiteful act of a jealous lover.

My Aunt Norma’s bungalow had been built astride a cliff gully that bubbled and splashed streams of water beneath it, down to the shoreline far below. Standing like the Trojan Horse on an intricate framework of timber stilts 'Woodside' hung precariously over a valley of fern and wild purple bramble, awaiting the inevitable call from the sea.

Throwing loud kisses through the air my Aunt hugged me at her open garden gate, in full view of no one. Her small black poodle, Pepe, who smelt like the tide’s edge, scurried, and yapped excitedly around my feet, leaving a profusion of small puddles in his wake. Aunt Norma’s eyes shone brightly, like stars, as she held me tight and then taking my hands, drew me into a small entrance lobby whereupon she kissed me, staining my already flaming cheeks with a wet sticky red sweetness. The lobby opened into a small, glazed hallway past graceful green fronds, and the tinkle of singing wind chimes, on through an open door into a comfortable lounge.

She had left me standing in the lounge, where pictures of scarlet clad huntsmen ‘Tally Ho’ around the walls midst gilt framed landscapes and still life. Shafts of sun light lit the room, brass ornaments and pretty china flowers gleamed, shining down from their shelves on a large ornate Welsh dresser. The reflections glinting upon the backs of two large porcelain shire horses, ever straining as they heaved a copper dray stacked high with barrels across my Aunt’s dining table.