Tunnel of Natural Light

Tunnel of Natural Light
'...the air itself was flooded with light, white and gold, so that nothing was visible but light itself' - Eva Figes, 'Light'

Thursday, 31 May 2012

My First Ever Surf Day

Wednesday the 23rd of May brought with it my first informal surf lesson at Perranporth Beach, just outside of Newquay. My very good friend Ed (average surfer, but to me was surfer extraordinaire), had been promising me for the longest time that he would take me to the beach where he spent his childhood and finally after getting all of our University deadlines and exams out of the way, it was finally time to let the surf take us.

I had only ever been surfing once in my life at the age of twelve with a school activities trip, we had gone to Fistral Beach in Newquay for an hour lesson. Unfortunately, the instructors had informed us that the surf wasn’t very good and that we may not get chance to catch any substantial waves as the sea was very calm. That was fine by me as a 4 foot 6 runt of the litter who could barely swim, never mind surf. I remember dragging my 8 foot board (that’s right, almost twice my size) into the sea to experience the most terrifying hour of my life. With fifteen or so other children there, the 3 instructors couldn’t watch us all, so it took about 10 minutes for one of them to notice my mangled body being thrown around by the little waves. I managed to lie on my board once or twice, but after about 45 minutes I was very tired and too nervous to face to the onslaught of the water anymore. I returned to the safety of my teachers and my asthma inhaler.
But 8 years later as I walked out onto Perranporth Beach in my mum’s 1980s short sleeved wetsuit, I was feeling more optimistic this time. If anything I felt as though if I drowned, Ed would notice pretty soon and come fish me out by my collar. My friend and surf instructor for the day, Ed, is my opposite in height, looming over me like a skyscraper at 6 foot so could probably pull me to safety with his crane like arms. However, in the last 8 years, I had also managed to grow an inch every year, so now I at a colossal 5 foot 3 no waves could stand in my way.


Ed had told me that today was supposed to be one of the most perfect days for surfing as the conditions were great- not too choppy and perfect for beginners- so I was ready. We waded out into the sea, I noticed the look from all of the others surfers as they admired my neon pink and black wetsuit. With the words ‘Ocean Force’ on the front, they all knew that it was about to go down. I was borrowing Ed’s 6 foot board, which I was told wasn’t the best to learn on, because it’s near impossible to get off your stomach if you were a beginner, but I was determined to tame the waves and be the best surfer ever (well at least get on my knees).

Once I had managed to flop my body weight onto the poor defenceless board and paddle manically I soon got used to the taste of sea water, as the waves passed over my head. But after some practise, my hard work paid off and I caught my first wave. The rush of moving with the wave, an untameable essence that lets you ride along with it was incredible. I could finally understand why you see surfers talking about the ocean like it was a person that they were in love with, I felt like I could write a sonnet about my first wave (Beatrice) right then and there.

After I had ridden a few magnificent waves lying on my stomach, I felt as though I should try and stand on one now. I watched Ed do it and it seemed near impossible. His tall slender frame, although gangly seemed to glide along the waves, I just couldn’t imagine my stump of a body doing the same. But I tried, and failed, numerous times, I had even tried the technique Ed used of balancing by turning your hand into a monkey claw, but to no avail.
 Gangly Ed with the white board I borrowed

I received some hefty thumps in the leg, which soon turned into big black bruises, which definitely occurred when a shark appeared out of nowhere and I fought it off with my bare hands.



 We had been there in the sea for 3 hours now and our bodies were beginning to give up but I was determined. Then right near the end, I managed to catch a beautiful wave and get to my knees, worshipping it all the way into the beach. It wasn’t standing but I saw it as a triumph!

And even now as I slave away serving people their lunch, I look out of the window at the ocean and vow to get back on that board and be embraced by my new friend, the sea once more.


P.S. Unfortunately, there was no documented footage of me in my one of a kind wetsuit, but maybe next time readers.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012

The End of Falmouth Beach Hotel

The 30th of April 2012 will now always be etched in my memory as the day my place of work- Falmouth Beach Hotel- burnt down.

It was a shocking day because you never believe that such a massive building could burn to the ground, so seeing the pictures and even visiting it the next day didn't feel real.


You don't realise until it's gone but Falmouth Beach Hotel was a major institution in Falmouth and there were hundreds of holidays, functions and weddings that went up in smoke with the end of that beautiful hotel. Although all of us who worked there moaned about the lack of teapot lids and the complaining guests, I would give anything to have it back.

It seems like the end of an era as the people I have worked with for the last 2 and a half years, who are some of my closest friends, are now being pulled away from me and dispersed among other hotels throughout Falmouth. It's very sad to know that our little group will never all work together again.

I'm trying not to remember the hotel as the burning mess that it ended in, but rather as the place I made best friends. I will remember the Falmouth Beach Hotel as the founding place of the infamous Fal Beach 5, the place were Claire Barron slipped over with the scrambled egg, smacking me in the face on her way down and the place where Alex Leach sent her 'do me' eyes to Steven Walker.
All of the windscreen wipers pulled up on everyone's cars, the MCW cloth and John Spargo's frozen tea plot are just some of the memories I will be taking away with me.
Never again will I be squeezing through the 'moist flaps' of the freezer, sneaking a bit of brownie off cut in the kitchen or singing show tunes in the still room.

It's a very sad time for the Fal Beach family (mostly because of all of the polished glasses that have been lost and the amount of wine that was in that wine cupboard was enough to live off for a good few years) but at least we have the memories.