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HASTINGS - THE FOUR SEASONS

It's winter in the seaside town of Hastings, a cosmopolitan town on the East Sussex coast, designated to become a University City.

Being on the coast in winter the wind howls up the English Channel and along the seafront, usually from west to east. Today is no exception.

I am trying to walk westward along the promenade but I have to bend at a steep angle to compensate for the wind blowing against me.

Looking out to sea it's very murky and very grey, as is the sky. Looking at the horizon you cannot see where the sea finishes and the sky begins.

The wind is bitterly cold and it's now starting to rain. As I turn to walk home I can feel the rain lashing across my back. I'll be glad to be home by the fire.

However, the seemingly endless winter does eventually turn into Spring. It is now early April and the town is coming out of hibernation. The sun is now quite warm, the sky is crystal clear and the sea if a beautiful shade of blue.

I am walking along the promenade, but this time I am upright. The daffodils in the flowerbeds are in full bloom, as are the crocus and pansies.

The water fountains have now been turned on; it is quite therapeutic just sitting watching the water cascade over the rocks into the pool.

Yes, Spring has arrived. What a lovely time of year.

In early Spring the town bursts into life. The council gardeners are hard at work preparing the flowerbeds for the summer season, which is not far away.

The whole town is bustling with people, painting their shop fronts, decorating or revamping their cafes.

The garble of foreign students can be heard as they start to fill the language schools.

The gift shops and ice cream parlours are starting to reopen; the excitement of summer is almost upon us.

Now the summer season has arrived and to any seaside town this is the piece de resistance.

The town is now full to overflowing with tourists, holidaymakers, shoppers and of course foreign students of every nationality. There is a multitude of entertainment to suit everyone.

Cinemas, bingo halls, nightclubs and a wonderful variety of pubs and wine bars, many with live music. There are two theatres, one for travelling artists and one in the Old Town, which shows plays acted by the local theatrical society.

The Old Town, so steeped in history, is a must to visit. We are now into high summer. I am again on the promenade but this time I'm laid back, in my deck chair.

In the blistering heat, looking out to sea, you can see the heat haze shimmering across the electric blue water, as the sunlight glistens on the pinnacles of the gently flowing waves. With all the flowerbeds now in full bloom, as you look along the promenade it's like an amazing kaleidoscope of foral beauty.

With the tide now ebbing, the beach is almost awash with scantily clad sunbathers, soaking up the sun. Children are building sandcastle, playing football on the sand, climbing the rocks and, of course, there's water play of every description.

At night, though, the beach changes. Now it is more tranquil with a shfaft of moonlight glistening on the gently rippling water.

The occupants are more interested in walking, passion, or even skinny-dipping, because, of course, the beach is open 24 hours a day.

The Old Town carnival at the end of August is almost the crescendo of the summer season. There are literally thousands of people lining the streets to watch the magnificent display of floats, military bands and people in fancy dress of all descriptions.

However, as I walk home watching the fireworks howl out of the castle grounds that are towering above me, I know Autumn is almost upon us.

I'm now on the promenade in Autumn. I'm not bending forward or laid back, just dawdling along feeling rather doleful summer is over.

I'm heading for the Fire Hills and out into the country. The woodlands and hedgerows are now full of Autumn fruits and nuts, blackberries, redberries, wild apple, chestnuts and hazelnuts, all to be picked at your leisure.

As I walk the lanes into the country I can smell the aroma of freshly cut grass, probably the last mow of the season.

The smell is mingled with the smell of Autumn bonfires.

While the now amber Autumn leaves swirl briskly in the mild autumnal breeze and smoke billows from the cottage chimneys, I feel rather melancholy as I now know, soon, these warm Autumn breezes will turn once again into winter chills.

by Richard Henry Ward, St Leonards on Sea