WITHOUT THE WIND we wouldn’t have wind turbines, windmills or the yellow flag I saw outside someone’s house that had an illustration of a crab on it. As it gently unfurled in the breeze it revealed the obscured message. The message was just the word ‘Crab’. No, I didn’t understand it either, but I appreciated it all the same.
Whenever I reached the summit of a particularly strenuous clifftop and was rewarded with a refreshing breeze, I felt grateful for the wind caressing my sweaty forehead. Whenever a gust made fallen leaves dance whilst clouds of pollen wafted through the air, I was grateful for nature’s confetti and the continued existence of oak trees and dandelions through pollination. My body expressed its gratitude by sneezing and sniffling through the year as it transpired that I am allergic to every single season.
I liked seeing kites (the bird) fly and I liked seeing people flying kites (the toy). I enjoyed watching the wind surfers, the determined beach-goers assembling cocoons of windbreakers, and the occasional hat flying off somebody’s head. It was the British seaside at its most authentic and charming. And inspiring. I myself was inspired to attach a piece of string to my own headgear to save me the embarrassment of chasing my umbrella hat down a busy road. Again.