Wednesday, 27 July 2011

The melancholy of the late evening hut - # 101/2011

"It's time to pack up now, dear!":  that dreaded statement at the close of a lovely childhood day on the beach at THE HUT!  The smell of the interior of the hut, the warm cosiness, the packing up and plodding back home on foot. The lingering smell of egg and cress sandwiches and smell of Daddy's war time infantryman's primus stove for boiling water in the whistling kettle. The smell of salty sea air and the shock of discovering sea borne fuel oil stuck to your feet and swimming trunks. 


  1. But why are the huts always so close together?
    Socialization, I suppose.

  2. @Margaret.......yes, probably. The HUT is a cosilly private thing, but a community develops between regulars. It was lovely. Each family had a nick-name (used among ourselves) because sometimes you didn't actually ever know their real names. I still remember the "Brown Boys"...a couple of very handsome, soldierly, suntanned brothers in one of the adjacent huts.

  3. Gosh, you've been getting around. Love this shot. Reminds me too of my later childhood in Hove where we had a beach hut. Earlier holidays were in Kent but I don't remember we had one then. I like your memories, Stuart. I forget...