Pubs in seaside towns have an extra layer of magic. Even in this urban environment they have an intrinsic connection to nature.
Maybe pubs in the mountain contain this atmosphere too. But something about a windswept alley by a darkened beach on a winter’s night is enchanting. The moment of switching from the freezing sea air to fireside warmth and the smell of beer cannot be beaten.
You must remember how close these pubs are to the edge of the land. Walk five hundred metres to the right, and you end deep within the water.
Or indeed you can go the other way.
Some visitors from below are curious to find out what lies above. They brave the stinging pebbles and burning sand, and crawl across the rough concrete to satisfy curiosity. If you had undertaken that torrid journey, would you not want to seek out warmth and companionship?
This may be part of where the concept of ghosts originated. They are surreptitious, and the good thing about seaside pubs is they contain lots of nooks and crannies. Many have old barrels and knotted ropes to hide behind. The visitors are close to human form, and lumps and bumps can hide under shawls and blankets. No one bothers the odd looking person drinking stout in the corner.
If you look closely, you can spot scales on the wrist, or the flick of gills beneath the ears. You will see a twitch of tentacle underneath grey socks.
The seaside pub is a magic place. Be mindful of any newcomers. This may be their first night of drinking.
