Seaside Sour

I have recently wrote a short play about homelessness. Here’s the introduction

There’s something about the seaside. Something about the innocence of childhood, the memories, that draws us to the seaside. Memories of family time, fish and chips, candy floss, loads of ice cream. Memories of fairground rides and hook a duck, bingo and cups of weak tea. Laughter, happy family times. Happy memories. Safe memories. There’s something about the seaside. 

But there’s something about the seaside that’s not so innocent. Something about the seaside that’s dark, twisted, corrupt and dangerous. That’s not so safe, not so happy. Not for me anyway. 


2 thoughts on “Seaside Sour

  1. Funny how many of our childhood memories are associated to food and drink. Whenever I think back to our family going away in the caravan, I inevitbly provoke images of can’s of Tizer/Top deck, sticks of Juicy Fruit and Hubba Bubba, bars of Yorkie and Marathon, from the shop on the campsite. I think the problem with childhood chippy memories is that they’re not cooked in beef dripping anymore. Our memories aren’t decieving us: fish’n’chips did taste much better back then, even if they were far more unhealthy!


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