Incoming tide reaches just about eight feet at its full height. I’m just over six foot and the chain’s slack is about two feet, give or take.
Survival is about numbers, strength and stamina.
They’ll all watch, but I’m fine with that.
Don’t feel bad, if you’d done what I did, this would be you.
Photograph by Lisa Shambrook (Please do not use without permission)
Sometimes I feel like I’m taking up too much of the pavement, and I make myself even smaller, pulling my holey jumper down over my knees and lacing my fingers tighter around my legs.
I try to be invisible even though I’m screaming to be seen.
I watch feet; I study shoes. Stomping brogues, clip-clopping heels, delicate sandals, cowboy boots, little girls’ T-bars, skyscraper stilettos, boys’ tatty trainers, sensible-for-work flats and flip-flops in the rain all pass me by.
This time it’s a pair of smart knee-highs that knock my nearly-empty, polystyrene cup of pennies flying…and yes, I am invisible.
Come back tomorrow for Day Five and Part Two of Flood…