Bored at Bournemouth?

There is always a risk when it comes to planning holidays, and especially when the oncology consultant comes to us with his answer to my question: Is it okay to take a break overseas?

Then comes his answer: No, we don't recommend any overseas travel at this stage.

Then the blood test result comes in. Bad news. Her white blood cell count is below the lower limit for chemotherapy. Therefore we must postpone the treatment until the following week. That is, she'll be here on the ninth of October instead of on the second. This will allow an extra week for the cell-count to reach an acceptable level in the meantime. 

Damn it! That means, instead of a trip to Brussels on the Eurostar on the 9th as originally planned, on that day it will be a much shorter and far less exciting trip to Frimley Park Hospital. Both my wife and I were downhearted but nevertheless, we both realise the wisdom of his advice. Furthermore, the fare we had already paid when booking the Eurostar will be lost, for the tickets are non-refundable. Also, according to the small print in the insurance policy, this too will invalidate any claim, simply because my beloved has been on chemo already before the booking was made.

As we both felt crushed and disappointed, my father-in-law drove us back home. Having arrived home, rather than sit around and mope, I decided to go swimming at our local leisure centre. Alex was at least pleased about this, as she knows that any physical exertion will do me much good, especially when feeling down.

It did. Whilst swimming in a designated lane, I toyed with the realisation that the second day of October will now be free. And it was less than 48 hours away. My hopes were lifted at the idea of a four-day break in Bournemouth which would include October 2nd - our 20th wedding anniversary. All I need to do was to book a room at an accessible hotel for that period and leave the very next day.

View from our hotel room balcony.

The booking at the town centre Premier Inn on the internet was successful, and with breakfast included, I didn't consider this as too expensive. Suddenly things have changed - for the better. Although I grieve over the loss of the Eurostar fare, this was offset by the fact that our actual wedding anniversary will be spent on the beach rather than in a hospital.

This is a good time to explain my love for this part of the world. I got to know this Dorset holiday resort as a teenager. I could add that I "discovered" Bournemouth on my own rather than taken there by my parents, who always took us boys - that is, my brother and me - to Brighton nearly every Summer Sunday, and later to Portsmouth. By contrast, Bournemouth is close to Swanage, itself at the start of the 96-mile 154 km Jurassic Coast, a world heritage site. It was Swanage where I was taken to by my primary school around 1960, and from childhood, I was always fascinated with the geological features surrounding this coastal town. On the north side, the chalk hill of Ballard Down slopes towards the coast to end as spectacular chalk cliffs, tapering at the Foreland alongside different chalk stacks, including the Old Harry Rocks, which can be seen from Bournemouth seafront. The continuous squawking of seagulls echoing around the stacks creates an atmosphere unique to the area. 

Since Bournemouth Station is the nearest coastal stop to Swanage, onward from my late teen years, I alighted at Bournemouth and looked around for a suitable hotel. Then I walked along the beach until I reached Sandbanks, a rich man's estate built literally on a naturally-formed sand spit. Then the chain ferry across the mouth of Poole harbour, to Studland Bay, then on foot into Swanage after crossing the spine of Ballard Down which, on a clear day, offers magnificent views of Poole Harbour, the second largest natural inlet after Sydney, along with Bournemouth and its apparently thin coastline. And I then just turned to face the opposite way towards a panoramic view of Swanage, with Peveril Point and Durlston Head forming the backdrop for the eastern coastline of Purbeck.

It was such walks I did during my late teenage years and early twenties which set the precedent for world travel and backpacking. Although I have in the past received criticism by other Christians for being a loner, I have never regarded myself as unsociable, it was after I became a Christian, when I began to enjoy solitude to a greater extent as I began to link such astonishing phenomena with God's creative handiwork.

Alex and I arrived at Bournemouth on the eve of our anniversary. Being off-season, it was quite different from when we were there in July 2014 - in the thick of Summer, with the sun beating down. Back then, the tourist crowds and foreign students kept the tills constantly ringing. Food stalls such as ice-cream parlours, hot-dog stands, pasty bakeries, soft drink kiosks, all drawing in the crowds. Music drifted from the bandstand overlooking the central gardens, which itself was bustling with the crowds - cramming the wide footways, dotting the lawns with picnic sheets, the beach was packed with little space in between, a large crowd swam out into the gently lapping waves, the pier was alive with jostling crowds despite the entrance toll. Indeed, the whole town was thriving in a cheerful holiday mood, with every retail merchant glowing with joy as he checks his swelling bank account. And in the evenings, the bustling noise of nightlife was thriving, with crowds lasting into midnight, and on the sandy beach, foreign students cooked over lit bonfires.

Chalk cliffs and stacks of Ballard Down, Swanage.

What a contrast we felt this time, off-season. The sky was overcast, the winds blew. As we stood on the pier (free entry during the evenings) - I watched a club-group of surfers ride the waves. We were rather hungry, but not an open stall to be seen. Just as the beach was deserted, save for the surfers, so the promenade and all the stalls were closed, all of them boarded up. The Square, which before in 2014, was packed out, including a queue for the spinner, now lies deserted, with just a small group of youngsters sitting on one of the benches, chattering. Indeed, the whole town looked a dismal sight, yet the waves of the sea kept rolling in, the sight of Ballard Down in the distance remains unmoved, the seagulls continue to squawk, and so the world turns, as the warmth of Summer gradually drops away during this Autumnal intermediatory period before Jack Frost arrives to carpet the streets, the rooftops and the beach above the splash zone with Winter snow.

Alex and I enjoy just being together, even if the resort looks bleak and lifeless. That is the most important thing - the two of us together and furthermore, not confined to a hospital building. Fortunately, a Tesco Express store was open for trading with the locals, and we bought some snacks to take back to our hotel.

I stood at our room balcony, looking out across the night, with countless light bulbs illuminating the resort with a vast array of spotlights, yet all coming to an abrupt end at the beach, which beyond, the darkness hanging over the sea also enveloping the faraway Ballard Down with invisibility, save for an array of far-distant streetlights of neighbouring Swanage.

It was then I had to face reality. This was still England. It was still very different from where we went to for our honeymoon and for our tenth anniversary. Those dates were at the Greek island of Rhodes. As I said to my beloved exactly ten years earlier, whenever our anniversary hits a zero, we would return to Rhodes. But ten years ago we were both reasonably healthy. Little did we know, as God certainly knew, that Alex would be confined to a wheelchair, and furthermore, we'll be celebrating our 20th halfway through chemotherapy treatment.

I recall how on both occasions we strolled along the Greek beach, especially after nightfall, and listening as the Mediterranean waves lapped gently upon the stone beach. A shooting star streaked across the sky as we stood in each other's arms. In addition to this, there was this unique herbal aroma in the warm, still air. And the sky remained cloudless during each day, every night the stars shone brightly. It almost felt that the Garden of Eden was already restored. And I expressed my desire to return to Rhodes every ten years.

These thoughts went through my mind as I stood on the balcony. No matter how much I may love the Dorset coast, it's not the Mediterranean with its own atmosphere. But throughout the last twenty years, our marriage, no doubt like any other, has had its ups and downs. The ups including watching her give birth, and to hold our newborn daughter in my arms as her tiny figure slept soundly. Yet I have wept aloud during a church service here at Ascot, of shattered dreams and of blasted hope. I have watched my beloved's health deteriorate, I have watched as she was near to paralysis. For four whole months, she was an inpatient with a neurotic disorder with which the medical team wasn't able to treat save a lifelong prescription. Each day I did not fail to board a train to spend a couple of hours together.

Then the news of her cancer and the appropriate treatment which followed, which at present, includes chemotherapy. Yet it's my constant prayer that God will always give me the power and strength to love her to the full, unconditionally.

And so as I stood on the balcony, I overcome such thoughts by thanking God for this holiday in Bournemouth. Thanking God that here we are, in a hotel and not in a hospital, despite that there is an NHS hospital nearby in case of an emergency. In fact, directly below where I was standing, an ambulance was parked. I thanked God that it wasn't for either of us.

The goodness of God was demonstrated by waking up on our anniversary to a clear sky and the sun shining. After breakfast, I strolled, pushing my wife's wheelchair, along the level esplanade towards the neighbouring resort of Boscombe, a pleasant 35-40-minute walk of 1.5 miles. Amazingly, it was warm enough for a good swim in the sea. At first, I was totally alone in the water, but apparently, I must have set an example for a few other men to follow. I must have bathed for a better part of an hour, but it was enough to reminiscence on Rhodes. Boscombe was almost as good, it is a much smaller and more sedate resort than Bournemouth, therefore I had a preference for this spot. 

The next day brought overcast skies, wind and a driving drizzle. But still, no time for boredom, as we visited the Oceanarium, located on the esplanade just west of the pier. True enough, it doesn't hold a candle to Sea World of 1995 San Diego splendour, but it was good enough to stay out of the weather. And at least we both stayed dry. Back in 1995, I got thoroughly soaked through and through as I sat in the audience, watching an orca perform. But it wasn't the soaking which bothered me. It was the thought of a killer whale held in captivity, along with the seals and the dolphins. They shouldn't be there. They should be out in the open ocean, enjoying the boundless freedom for which God had created them. The thorough soaking, whilst fully clothed, might have been the message the orca was trying to tell us all! I have to admit, that evening I left Sea World with mixed feelings.

Over here, all aquatic life seems to be happy in their confined environment. Perhaps born in captivity or brought in while very young (the black-tip sharks were rather small) at least they are used to being where they are.

 Bournemouth Oceanarium, taken October 2019

Outside the waves were high on the sandy beach, creating a continuous, non-stop roar. But there is one other spot I would have liked to have been at that moment. That is at Anvil Point right next to Tilly Whim Caves, on the other side of Swanage. These caves are not natural, but they are what's left of a long-disused quarry for Purbeck Stone, a very hard and resistant rock, very different to the soft clay and sandstone rocks which makes up the cliffs of Bournemouth.

When the wind is blowing and the tide is in, massive waves from the open Channel crashes hard against a natural ledge which juts out from the cliff face. The tremendous power and force as the rock remain uneroded, sending the swell sky-high with a thunderous noise. I have stood there in the past and watched with excitement at the demonstration of God's power over the seas, which is a fulfilment of what the Scripture says:

Or who shut up the seas with doors, when it brake forth as if it had issued out of the womb?

When I made the cloud its garment thereof, and thick darkness a swaddling-band for it,

And brake up for it my decreed place, and set bars and doors,

And said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further: and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?

Job 38:8-11 AV.

It's so true! Powerful waves crash against the rocks, and I might even get splashed, yet the sea cannot reach out its arms to drag me into it and drown. Why? Because I'm just out of its reach. I'm was standing just on the safe side of the "bars and doors" God had already decreed. Instead, this spot is one of many places where I can worship the Creator with reverence and fear at his workmanship.