Dear Seaton Carew,
I’m sorry, I cannot move in with you after all.
Yes, I know what I said and, no, I wasn’t stringing you along.
I really do love you.
However I have come to realise that what we have is special because we are not together all the time.
At the moment I long to be able to walk your promenade with its marble nod to the Art Deco era, to feel the sand of your wide, flat beach between my toes.
Even the dead industrial skyline holds fascination.
I know I said I wanted to relocate, to be with you all the time, but now you are my quiet time alone, away from the day-to-day hustle and bustle.
I am free to walk at a leisurely pace, watch the turbines, count the waders, or search for sea glass to my heart’s content.
I appreciate the sun-filled summer days and misty autumn evenings with the sound of fog horns filling the damp air.
If I was here permanently I would become blind to your beauty, immune to your charm.
You’d be lost among the daily grind and visits south to those I left behind.
I’m sorry if you feel let down.
You know I hate to leave you, and spend as much time with you as I can.
I even have a picture of one of your beautiful wildflower borders as my screensaver.
I promise my decision changes nothing and I will be back to see you in a few weeks.
I’m looking forward to it already.