Life's A Beach

Caroline McLeod

The village of Gardenstown clings to the cliffs at the edge of the Moray Firth coast. The Firth stretches out before the village, a glittering, sparkling sea which runs as far as the eye can see. As an eight year old it was the best place to go on holiday, it was exotic, unfamiliar territory and it was precisely three miles away from home!

Our holiday home was at our Great Aunt Berta's house. Berta's house was in the village's seatown. For us to be dropped off, we had to be driven along the front of the seatown, which was no ordinary drive. Along your left hand side were the houses of the seatown tightly packed together in a long row, on the right hand side lay a steep drop to the sea. The only thing keeping you out of the water was a thin strip of road just about wide enough for a car. There was no barrier, no fence or edge built up to stop you falling off the other side. Known locally as the seawall, it was a hairy drive and I normally sat in the back with my hands over my eyes until we were safely parked up at the end of the road. ... (continues)