Sea-led with a kiss.

Sand between your toes.
Wine before 12 in the afternoon.
daydreaming.
Some of the perks of a seaside holiday.
being in a sleepy town with a population of five gave me plenty of time to sort out the noise in my head.
It was tough. It was all kinds of something.
Theres nothing like the roaring ocean and nothing but books and the occasional seagull for company to really force you to re-eavulate your life.
I was so sick to death of the whole woe is me drama that has been playing lead in my life lately,
But too much wine and my daily 'hellow and how are you today' trip to the Spar to get my fresh veg conversation with the teller really made me step up and say, okay fine, ill deal with it now.
Which is how i came to find myself completely inconsolable with laughter on thursday morning.
I was honestly just going for a bit of a power walk and to gulp some fresh sea air, when everything hit me like a Jackie Collins novel over the head.
You cannot put a band-aid ontop of a band-aid ontop of a band-aid.
Life just doesn't respond well to that kind of denial.
And i think after pilling on my tenth band-aid the universe just got fed up, pulled my by my ear and said 'Listen now missy, you have wallowed long enough, write a letter, cry your eyes out but for goodness sake deal with it!'
Now for a girl thinking she didnt have much to deal with, this was quite a daunting task.
So i took out my little notepad and pen and sat down to write down all those feeling of let down-ness i could muster and off i toddled to the rocks below our beach house to throw my 'message in a bottle' into the deep blue sea.
I was kind of hoping for a movie moment, hair whipped gently by the wind..the sound track of some feel good song willing me forward.
Luck and romance once again failed to show up to this one woman party.
I chose the one day where every child and their uncle, and their aunt would happen to be on my very secluded beach.
Now sitting on a dune with a letter in a bottle next to you for company is somewhat ridiculous.
I sat. like some foolish woman on that sand dune waiting for the uncles and aunts and children to high ho on outta there so i could have my 'Barbra Streisand Your girl is lovely hubble' moment.
And even when the crowds had left and i sauntered ungracefully falling over rocks twice to get to the sea, even then dear reader, the ocean spat my bottle right back out to shore and i begrudgingly had to fish it out to try once more, to 'let go' via message in a bottle.
I got sand in my eye,and stood on a dead sardine.
The bottle with all its papery hopes and dreams floating happily on a shimmering wave while i hobbled back to the house like some bad American sitcom.