Fhurt Pownder
I was down by the Yarmouth Pier, feeding the gulls and trying to remember why, when I spotted what I can only describe as a subaquatic lady of uncertain freshness. She was thrashing about in the shallows, hair all over the place, looking about as seasick as a landlubber on a hovercraft.
At first glance I thought, “Mermaid!”, the tail was definitely... something. On closer inspection (and I admit, my cataracts are doing most of the creative work these days), it might have been an old fridge with seaweed. Hard to tell. She waved, or possibly a wave waved, and then vanished, leaving only a suspicious amount of bubbles and the smell of old mackerel.
Locals report hearing a strange sound that could’ve been siren song, retching, or the Yarmouth ferry reversing. Either way, I’ve taken it as a sign to stop buying tinned tuna and start believing in coastal miracles.
