I’d come into town for some peace, to breathe in the sea air, to gaze at the waves. The whale was a bonus. He was close to the shore, taking his time cutting through the water, spouting up high. I could see the top of his sleek body just above the water. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” came a voice next to me. I turned to see a wrinkly old man clutching a walking stick with one hand and the railing with the other. “Makes you realise how simple life can be, if we allow it to be.”

Her bedroom windows were rattling as she entered. ‘It’s windy.’ She pushed the window closed harder, checking it let as little as possible of the icy Antarctic wind in. Her evening-before-early-morning-winter swimming routine: · towel jacket and thongs – ready to drop near the water exit point so her feet wouldn’t turn into frozen meat slabs pierced by each step on the asphalt on the walk back. · swimming bag – a treasure trove of swimming paraphernalia that is

‘A whale walked into a bar…’ began Jonathan. ‘No… no… no… you can’t start a joke like that.’ ‘What… Has if been done before?’ A withering look preceded Jennifer’s dry response… (After the few seconds... she gave him time to think about it… ) “Whales don’t have legs…” “It’s a joke, Jennifer… Like poets have poetic license. Comedians have … um… Comedic license…” “Well ... my dear… The first thing people will notice is that… like I said… whales don’t have legs! Then what f

Washed up ashore here like a stinking pile of blubber, clogging up the very air in your nostrils, obnoxious no matter where you turn, you can’t escape it. We tried burying the thing but the tide kept washing away the shingle – besides have you ever tried burying a whale, even with heavy machinery? All that water makes it incredibly difficult. You never quite get rid of the smell. And what happens? People quit coming to the beach, that’s what happens. Then what happens to

I think it is marvellous what great voices they have. Some are large and wet and some hang around Snowdonia, Cardiff and Swansea….even Anglesea or Penygader. Some have personalities and swivelling hips and get women’s underwear thrown at them. Some do breaching, lobtailing and spyhopping. In antiquity, some used to pose as women and hang around dangerous rocky outcrops, perhaps singing songs, and luring hapless sailors to their deaths; or at least go mad and be tired to t