BIRDS FLY SOUTH

Birds Fly South.

I grew up in Jersey – in the ‘70’s it was very much a vibrant seaside destination that bustled with tourists in the summer months.

During the wintertime, there was a sense of melancholy and desertion in the areas where holidaymakers had previously gathered. Shuttered shops. Beach huts desolate and neglected. A pervasive sense of the party being very much over for another year.

As a child, I found it cheerless and bleak but I now get great pleasure from visiting such places out of season. Undoubtedly, there remains a very different kind of ambience - but it is no longer depressing. I find instead a quiet dignity perhaps. A peaceful solitude.