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» Beautiful Moments, Part Two
Devonshire sirens
First post... be gentle.
I come from a grim city in the West Midlands, and over the years, I and my two best female friends have escaped to assorted picturesque enclaves of the British Isles, with nary a 60's tower block in sight.
One of my friends moved to Devon, and we other two pootled down one weekend last year to see her in her cute seaside cottage. The weather was outrageously beautiful all weekend, and just before it was time to leave we went to visit a tiny cove, all towering cliff-faces, pale sand and dramatic waves. We were going for a paddle when we heard what sounded like a choir; standing in the waves up to the waist were around eight women, singing in perfect four part harmony a song about the perils of the sea...
Listening to their voices soaring over the crashing of the sea and the howling of the wind, I've never felt so close to something magical as I did then, and I could tell by looking at my girls that they felt the same surge of emotion, the soppy bints. The spell was broken when the ladies came to the last verse, burst into giggles, and ran out of the waves back up the beach.
We had to leave then so we never found out who they were or what they were doing on the beach that day, but ladies; I salute you.
(Mon 9th Aug 2010, 16:13, More)
Devonshire sirens
First post... be gentle.
I come from a grim city in the West Midlands, and over the years, I and my two best female friends have escaped to assorted picturesque enclaves of the British Isles, with nary a 60's tower block in sight.
One of my friends moved to Devon, and we other two pootled down one weekend last year to see her in her cute seaside cottage. The weather was outrageously beautiful all weekend, and just before it was time to leave we went to visit a tiny cove, all towering cliff-faces, pale sand and dramatic waves. We were going for a paddle when we heard what sounded like a choir; standing in the waves up to the waist were around eight women, singing in perfect four part harmony a song about the perils of the sea...
Listening to their voices soaring over the crashing of the sea and the howling of the wind, I've never felt so close to something magical as I did then, and I could tell by looking at my girls that they felt the same surge of emotion, the soppy bints. The spell was broken when the ladies came to the last verse, burst into giggles, and ran out of the waves back up the beach.
We had to leave then so we never found out who they were or what they were doing on the beach that day, but ladies; I salute you.
(Mon 9th Aug 2010, 16:13, More)