I see an advert at the bus stop.
The open road of the USA,
highway stretching through Monument Valley.
Nah, I’d rather be here.
On the bus,
headphones alive,
listening to something real —
like Traquair and the Tranquilizers,
or Steve Adams singing,
“Have you washed your hands?”
Heading to Irvine beach
in the peelywally Scottish sun.
The kind of day
you need sunscreen and a hoody,
just in case.
The old town is alive with
sun seekers,
joggers,
families
and old ones.
Down those old roads,
along the harbour.
Smiles at the Hac.
I get the feeling
that might be my kind of place.
Past the ghost of The Big Idea,
drawbridge up.
I’m going to walk from Irvine to Barassie
along the beach.
The water slowly rippling in,
the sound of seagulls,
and the further along you get,
the people fade away,
and it almost feels like you are alone.
Arran in the distance,
keeping a watchful eye.
Jumping over the streams and sandbanks,
the occasional dog sprinting past,
chasing his ball.
I run my hands through the water.
Take a breath.
I turn off the music.
Take a seat in the sand.
Just sit back,
and let it all be.
Life is life.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Paul Andrew Sneddon 