They didn’t look quite like this in the 1970’s but the colour is near as damn it
Chocolate Covered Honeycomb
We drive along the Esplanade, sea weed air like rancid cabbage
Seeping through closed windows of the Austin Traveller
My heart sinks. The tide is out. Again
Stoney beach with hard white dog shit hides between sand and shell
Black tar smudges on legs and between toes
The stains will remain till next time
My father the dog and I trek a mile out to the Ray
Deep in the channel of the Thames through thick mud
We arrive at clean river sand. Pre warned
The tide can sneak up behind and cut you off
The dog jumps and splashes in the water
My father sneaks up behind
A quiet cold school Monday “Come on you wimp!”
I entice the man into a murky Estuary. Stripping naked. Nipples hard
“Canvey Island’s over there. The home of Dr Feelgood. Are you feeling good?”
He is feeling good. The tide is high. He jumps and splashes in the waves
We peel off seaweed. Walk back to the beach
Dodging broken glass, needles, condoms
The beach hut is painted baby blue the colour of his eyes
“Come on. Let’s fuck!” I lean over. Hang onto wood slates of the porch
Breathing in and out our smut is over quick
Resting on sea worn stilts of the hut are our clothes
Shame covers me, again
He drives us to Old Leigh-on-Sea
Outside the Crooked Billet we drink Snakebite
The cockle sheds smell like fanny
We buy roll mops and soft white rolls mop up vinegar
“Are these baps as good as mine?” I joke
At the small Leigh beach we sit on wet yellow sand
“This water is full of shit. Thirty years ago the Island flooded
Fifty-nine died. Their ghosts still shitting themselves in the water”
My father helped Island evacuees
Ten years previous in wartime he was abused on a farm
We stop at the ice cream shop. Two chocolate covered honeycombs
One on the counter. One in my bag
His white escort van along the A13 to home
“One honeycomb for you. A souvenir.” I drop on his lap
The van disappears up the cul-de-sac
“What do you want for your tea dad? What do you want for your fucking tea?”
I turn the TV off. The stolen honeycomb lands on his lap
Uncut talons tear the wrapper and cellophane slides down
With purple sticky tongue and a smile he licks off the chocolate
Liz Bentley 