Living by the seaside: A writer’s diary 5

Best-selling author and actress Kate Thompson tries solitary seaside living in the interests of writing. Would it work? Read Kate’s column over the next few weeks on the Country channel

For writers solitude is a pretty essential commodity. Although I've had occasions here in my Roundstone apartment when what I've been writing has been so all-consuming that it's imperative to get the words onto the screen - and I've somehow managed to do it while Malcolm talks business on the phone and my daughter sings along to Amy Winehouse - generally speaking I need to be on my own, with no distractions. Having said that, the sea view from my window here is so distractingly beautiful that sometimes I think I should sit with my back to it. You could sit and gaze at the vista for hours. In fact, I have occasionally done just that, to my daughter's utter incredulity: ‘Mu-um! How can you spend all that time just looking at a view?' (the word ‘view' invested with a kind of pitying contempt).

 

I'm packing up to leave here soon and go back to my home in the city, where I work in a chaotically untidy, windowless attic. I'm thinking about what I'm going to miss about this picture-postcard perfect seaside village. The view, of course, and the beaches where I run every day - weather permitting. I'll miss the local shop where I get my paper, and where there's always a friendly word and time to stop for a chat and a laugh. I'll miss my table by the fire in the local seafood pub where I have my chowder and crab claws, and where Malcolm claims the best pint of Guinness in Ireland is served. I'll miss my rambles, and the company of the smiling stray dog that often accompanies me on them. I'll miss the luxury of solitude.

 

As if to compensate, I'm making a list of people I haven't seen for many months so that I can organise my social life in the metropolis. You'll be glad to get back for that won't you, said a friend on the phone the other evening. For the social life? Well yes, of course - I've missed my friends. But thinking about it, in many ways I have easily as good a social life in this small village as I do in Dublin. I've attended parties here, and exhibition openings and suppers and champagne lunches and smorgasbords and dinners where top class food has been served. I've met many memorable people, and made some very good friends. You couldn't not make friends here. People look out for each other - they care.

 

So just in case I don't get a chance to say goodbye and thank-you for the past six months - goodbye Penny. Goodbye Denise and Ann. Goodbye Bill. Goodbye Tim and Mairead, and Ann and Robbie. Goodbye Roy and Nick. Goodbye Katherine and Michael and Betty. Goodbye Noel. Goodbye Leo and Eileen. Goodbye Fluffy, the dog.

 

A red fishing boat has just scudded across my view, looking impossibly picturesque in the late afternoon sun. A lump has come into my throat, and I think I'm going to cry. 

 

Read all of Kate's columns below

 

Week 1 

Week 2

Week 3

Week 4

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Life by the seaside ...

 

50 great British beach activities

 

Green coastal walks

 

Figure-flattering swimwear