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St Catherine's

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St Catherine's The times I had run down the path leading to castle beach were too many to recall, armed with bucket and spade, fishing net and anything else my arms would allow me to carry. Remembering the excitement I felt as I approached the sand, taking in the smells that come with the sea, what shall I do first, build a sandcastle, explore the rock pools, fly my kite or paddle in the sea, Never for a moment did I think of sitting in the sun and relaxing like my parents would suggest. This year seemed different, I approached the beach, passing the cafes along the bush-lined path with a friend, dressed in wet suits and tightly clutching our brand new surfboards. We knew exactly what the plan was, the tide was incoming the waves were breaking around the rocks and straight for the sea we headed, not noticing the hustle and bustle on the beach as we weaved in and out of half built sandcastles, stepping carefully around families and picnics. The sun was high in the August afternoon sky and a pleasant sea breeze allowed the fluffy clouds to pass overhead, without obliterating the heat of the sun. ...read more.


It seemed as if Phil and I were the only one's heading away from the beach, as a mass exodus of families armed with buckets and spades bustled past us in the opposite direction. At the top of the bush lined path we felt compelled to turn right, and take the long route back to the cabin, this route along the headland path gave us chance to sit on the grassy bank by the bandstand to eat our sandwiches and have a drink, we positioned our surf boards on the bank, rolled down our wetsuits to our waist hoping to catch the sun. The view of Saint Catherine's from this elevated position was even more thrilling. Year after year I had sat here with my family, wondering what lay behind the heavy doors, would it still have the splendour of a stately home, were there dungeons weaving their way through tunnels deep in the rocks, we always imagined there to be secret passages behind book cases rather like a setting out of an Agatha Christie novel. Phil spoke, bringing me back into the real world. ...read more.


Phil called out again, his voice sounding louder, I replied "Phil where are you?" As I crept along the dimly lit corridor my eye was taken by a small silver disk. I picked up what appeared to be a dusty 10p coin, and put it in my pocket, I continued my search for Phil who's voice was Continually getting louder, and he seemed anxious that I locate him quickly. Suddenly my heart thumped like a drum in my chest, as I felt a clammy hand on my shoulder. I let out a scream sweat running down the nape of my neck, as Phil's voice bellowed "Rich, Rich wake up, are you Coming to get an ice-cream, you took some waking up where have you been?" "I was in Saint Catherine's, well I thought I was anyway". Phil said "got any money" I reached into my wet suite pocket and handed him my loose change. " Well you might as well have this one back, this is no good it's a Victorian florin. What are you doing with one of these?" Without hesitation I replied " I picked it up in Saint Catherine's" "But Rich we haven't even planned our route yet, let alone been in there". Richard Keegan English-fiction Mrs Roberts ...read more.

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