Salvaged

Whitley Bay beach
2002

‘Choose a good flat stone. Lke this one.
Weigh it in your hand. Feel how it sits between finger and thumb.
Now aim low, catch the water a glancing blow.’

See how that stone skips across the sea.
See how many times, six maybe seven, sometimes more, before it sinks into the water.

‘But how? Show me again,’ I’d say, because my efforts always seemed to fail, fall short of his.
Once, twice at the most before sinking.

‘Where’d you learn that,’ I’d ask.
‘Oh here and there,’ he’d say.

And on we’d go, the reservoir tapped, stories flowing.

Skimming Stones
Whitley Bay beach, mid 1950s.