Hale Shore

Another mightily tenuous link to the category of a ‘beach’, the coast at Hale isn’t the kind of place you should take a bottle of sun lotion and a bikini. I’m not making that mistake again.
The pleasantly grotty slab of mud is made picturesque by the lighthouse that once beamed rays across the estuary before being shut down. This recognisable building is exactly what you think of if somebody says ‘lighthouse’, in the same way you’ll picture a red-​and-​white striped pole if they say ‘barber’s shop’.
Despite what I tell strangers on nights out, I’m not actually an oceanographer and therefore have no idea how sea currents work. This is a shame because, as well as being a cool job, it would probably provide me with answers on why Hale shore seems to collect all the weirdest manner of detritus
It’s a beach-comber’s heaven. You won’t find a single thing you want to touch, the toxins in the water kill that idea, but you’ll often find yourself saying «Where the hell has that come from?» You can spend hours kicking your way along the high-​tide line waiting to unearth some treasure but depressingly all you’ll ever find is a whole lot of toilet freshener cages. Maybe I won’t have my wedding here just yet.