The house was white and pink and yellow inside - a sunshiny house in a sunshiny coastal town in South Devon - an area often described as the English Riviera, mainly because of the balmy climate. Looking at the house from a distance you would first notice the spectacular clifftop location then the big, big windows, which meant that whoever lived there, stayed or visited would enjoy a panoramic view of the coastline with the distinctive russet-red cliffs. Devon sunsets can be particularly spectacular and of course there is the sea, always the sea.
At ten years old, the house was just beginning to grow into itself, develop its own character and idiosyncrasies. Sometimes it can take a while for houses to become homes - like people, they need love and nurture in order to be comfortable with themselves. This one was definitely a she-house - full of plants in decorated pots, chintzy sofas, white-painted furniture, paintings, books and photographs, and outside a tiered garden and stone terrace from which vantage point you might just be able to glimpse the unique railway line constructed on the sea wall linking Exeter with Paignton.
This was a happy house until one freak April day when the temperate Devon climate forgot itself and nature produced a few days of weather more suited to the wild Hebridean islands. The trains stopped running as angry waves roared and crashed over the sea wall. Then on the worst day, the tides relentlessly attacked the cliff face and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tiered terraced garden began sliding downwards dragging the house nearer and nearer to the cliff edge. The foundations shuddered - windows, doors swung open as the house teetered on the brink, lurching like a sinking ship - desperately trying to hold on to its contents before they were swallowed by the hungry sea. Then the storm passed as quickly as it had arrived and calm was restored once more. Watery sun struggled through the clouds and all that could be heard was the faint swish of the sea, tired now, resting, spent.
But the extent of the damage was immense. Apart from the loss of the garden and the boundary wall , inside the now-precarious house that no one would want to live in before major renovations had been carried out, crockery and china had been smashed in the impact of the land-slip, furniture upturned, books and paintings strewn everywhere.
The walls were stained and damp and even if they could one day be restored and re-painted in the original colours, the house would never be the same sunshiny happy place it once was. It had lost its heart and soul. Only one thing was later found undamaged and still in place and that was a framed reproduction of an oil painting by Turner which hung above the fireplace in the living room. The painting was called `Sunrise with Seamonsters' - all pinks, yellows and whites and more sunrise than monsters.
Perhaps, after all, this could be seen as a symbol of hope for a house that, for the present at least, was no longer a home.
Comments
skinner_jennifer | March 28, 2011 - 10:41
Hi seashore,
I cannot fault this wonderful story, so many people
have lost their homes because of landslides, it's so
sad because this could be a true story, but then
maybe it is. I love the coastline of Devon and I
love your description of it, especially the words:-
'the distinctive russet-red cliffs.' Simply beautiful.
The house you describe inside, sounds just like my
idea of an ideal home.
Thanks for the read.
Jenny.
seashore | March 28, 2011 - 11:30
That's really kind of you Jenny. Yes it really happened - a few years back a house on top of a cliff in Dawlish lost its garden due to a landslide! Obviously I've added bits to it but that much is true.
Really appreciate your comment.
Silver Spun Sand | March 28, 2011 - 12:57
Hi there, Coral. Really enjoyed this. Just a couple of small typos. I.e. 'idiosyncrasies' and 'no one'.
I loved the description of the Turner painting and 'more sunrise than monsters', made me smile
We nearly bought a house on a cliff top once, near Whitstable in Kent. I was all for it (apart from the fact we couldn't afford it) but my other half wouldn't even entertain the idea, and reading your story, I am really glad we didn't.
Much enjoyed;-)
Tina
seashore | March 28, 2011 - 13:41
Thanks for pointing out the typos, Tina! Thanks also for feedback. I love Whitstable - thinking along the lines of maybe that's where I'd like my last move to be (been moving all my life - 26 times at last count I think).
Silver Spun Sand | March 28, 2011 - 13:55
We've moved around quite a bit too. Our last move (ten years ago) was number eleven, so I can't compete with your 26! We're staying put now...hopefully.
Yes, Whitstable is lovely. We used to live in Faversham and visited there many weekends. There was a fantastic cockles and whelks stall down by the front that my husband just couldn't keep away from;-)
seashore | March 28, 2011 - 15:48
Oh, Faversham is a serious possibility - was looking round there last Summer with my daughter! Did you like living there?
SteveM | March 28, 2011 - 16:38
Excellent story, very engrossing.
I used to live in South Devon near Torcross where Hallsands village fell into the sea during the storms of 1917. And back in '89 our hilltop main road at Strete collapsed during a storm and took 2 years to repair. I've only moved 8 times, so I must be fairly new to this.
'the house teetered on the brink, lurching like a sinking ship' sets the scene of destruction very well.
Steve
seashore | March 28, 2011 - 16:50
Hey Steve, really appreciate your comment - particularly as it was you who suggested I had a go at some prose! Many thanks.
Silver Spun Sand | March 28, 2011 - 18:09
Hi again, Coral. It was in the early seventies when we lived in Faversham. At the time, it was an enchanting market-town, but I've no idea what it's like now. We lived on a new estate, as it was then, about half a mile out. The surrounding countryside is gorgeous and there are quite a few small villages nearby that are very picturesque. Although these days, I guess some of the houses would be worth a fair bob or so!!
ScoZen | March 28, 2011 - 19:57
Enjoyed this seashore.
More so because I live here now and see what you decribe every day.
Not saying exactly where though, in case every one knocks on my door demanding a cream tea.
Post again soon.
seashore | March 28, 2011 - 22:14
Thanks a lot ScoZen!
SundaysChild | March 29, 2011 - 19:43
Very interesting, well written piece. I must admit it doesn't warm me to the idea of living close to the coast!
seashore | March 29, 2011 - 20:30
No I can see why! Descriptive prose not really my thing and just realised I probably broke the rule by mentioning Turner - but really pleased you found it interesting and thank you so much for letting me know, SC.