King Arthur and the beach at Poole.

She decided to visit last night. Mainly because she wanted one of my Valium to help her sleep. I was pleased to see her, though I tried to hide it. She isn’t good for my soul, my peace of mind, equilibrium whatever you call it. It’s been six months since I last saw her, she who was once my sister, my soul-mate. That’s what she said we were to each other and for such a long time I believed her.

We spent many nights at her flat, listening to music from our era and singing our hearts out. Yet I hadn’t known her in the sixties, or even the early seventies. I think it was about 1979 when I first met her, though we had unknowingly met before. How rare is it for two women to be born on the same day, in the same hospital, just separated by an hour in birth-time?
For me it was a wonderful time, getting to know her and trying to see how our lives run parallel in so many ways. We came from very different backgrounds. She was born into a family with money and a nice home. I was one of five children born into a caring, but very poor family.

That very first time we met officially was in early 1981 when the street I lived in was raising funds for the wedding of Princess Diana to Prince Charles. My contribution was a song and a drinks evening, instead of boring old coffee mornings. Since I was working full-time it fitted in with my work schedule as well. She didn’t live in the same street, but was helping out an old friend. We knew each other, of course. There was a warm and comfortable feeling between us straight away. The despair of the hospital was then behind us, though the scars it left were never to recede entirely. You can’t escape from a background of the mental health service and those “ discussions” we were made to attend.

I still cannot bear the word “relax”, neither can she. It made want to scream out loud. Later I found she felt the same way. Was our friendship born that day, or was it written long ago on the day of our birth? She appeared to have all the benefits in life. I had nothing but sorrow and a broken marriage. Yet we shared a sense of worthlessness along with an ego that just begged to be heard. Quiet yet outgoing? Surely we were never meant to be this way?

Years later we had gone through more ups and downs than a Big Dipper, but still we stayed together. There was so much shared history by then. I had a daughter whom she adored. She had never had any children, though she loved them. We often went on holidays together, especially when my daughter grew up and went her own way. When did we have our major argument and what caused it?

Imagine a hot June weekend, the nights so short and the days hot and long. That was Poole when we decided to have our weekend there. We weren’t going to bother with bed and Breakfast places. Not us. Time was moving along a bit then and we wanted to do something different. We were both in our forties then and had already achieved together some things we had always planned to do. Mountain walking, horse riding, sailing, canoeing, everything except for hot air ballooning and one thing more. Neither of us had ever slept under the stars. No tents, no camping grounds, just literally as man had done so many thousands of years ago. The only difference being that it was warm enough not to need a fire, though I am sure we could have made one that night if we had wanted to.

Our night under the stars had been planned though. We wanted to sleep on the beach in sight and sound of the sea. The only problem was that the beach area could only be reached via the ferry and there wasn’t any overnight parking points near enough to the beach to achieve what we wanted. We parked the car in a lay-by and decided to go to a bar and have a few drinks. It was there that we first started a discussion that was to last through many more holidays until poor health finally put a stop to our gallivanting.

Our map of Poole and the surrounding areas showed many places well worth seeing. It also gave a background to the area and some history that included the Druid religion. Well that was enough to start us both off. That and a few pints of cool cider. We sat in the evening sunshine on the beach front sipping our pints and arguing like mad about the legends of King Arthur. It was a common argument, but that night it sort of stuck with us.

We had a light meal at the pub, knowing that we’d packed a veritable feast for later on. We had already disabled the car by a simple yet effective means known to most motorists. Trudging back to the car I noticed that my one ankle had caught the sun, despite my wearing a long skirt. Too much sun earlier that day I knew. As good friends do we laughed it off and set to with a willingness that many a younger person would have envied. The walk to the beach was about a half mile and we still had to carry a duvet, a car rug and a cooler bag with both food and drinks. We didn’t need the torch then, the sky was still a glorious light violet colour. It was near to Midsummer.

We trudged along through the sand until we well away from the road. The night was warm and for a while we sat on the sand upon the car rug, eating our meal of cold chicken, bread rolls, potato salad, crisps, cold eggs followed by fruit. All washed down by generous amounts of wine and cool lagers. We watched the sun go down, still arguing about whether King Arthur had ever had a strong-hold in that part of Dorset.
The night wore on and soon the lights of the opposite shore started to twinkle, reminding us that we needed to bed down for the night. Reluctant to move, we were eventually persuaded by a stiff sea breeze and made our way slowly to the sand dunes. There we found an enclosed space that had a natural hollow. We spread the car rug underneath us and the duvet on top of us.

Was there ever such a glorious night before and could we ever recapture that feeling again? I very much doubt it. Some things are just right, they fall into place without any planning. Of course we had planned for all eventualities, but we hadn’t planned for a starry night which kept us awake and talking long past the time when we should have been sleeping. Our discussions about Arthur were a normal part of a trip out, we were both fascinated by the tales and the many places he was supposed to have claimed in his lifetime.
Had he and his men slept under these very same stars? Did they look up at the great bear and ask Merlin for guidance? We kept on with our sleepy questions until we both fell asleep. I do remember waking up at some point with a full bladder and skirting the dunes to relieve myself. Sleepiness and darkness are a fatal combination. I wet my legging and had to rinse them out in the cold sea before snuggling under the duvet again.

Such, my friends, are the reality behind the good times. Hangovers, stiff limbs and waking hungry and cold. I volunteered to go to the café and bring back hot rolls and coffee. They tasted glorious. We then had a dip in the sea, packed up our night gear to take back to the car.
We had a half day before driving back to Wales. I would like to say that we spent it all in intellectual pursuits. Instead we found a nudist beach which I thoroughly enjoyed. There’s nothing so liberating than swimming in the buff.

All good things must come to an end though. We had a few more holidays after that one, but they were spent in caravans on settled sites. We still thought that we were being daring, but, in fact we were just going through the motions. We walked Snowden part way up. Went sailing on Derwent waters in the Lake District. Ate Grouse in an orange sauce and got well and truly drunk in a pub in Scotland some years later.

Could we ever bear to face those times again? To say that they were possibly the best times we ever had in our lives, or would that spoil the whole experiences?
I am afraid to ask. She is too. I hope the Valium helps her to sleep tonight, sorry, it is almost morning. I would like to sleep under the stars once again before arthritis stops that possibility.
She would come with me, I am sure. Or would she remember that time in Poole when (bursting to show off my historical knowledge ) I embarrassed her.
I’d like to think she would, that we could both be more mature and say exactly what we were up to physically and mentally. I miss her and our arguments. They kept our brains alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~