Chips, hot, soft, crisp edges

Reminder of Brighton Beach when we were teenagers

Sunny, windy, cold and stony

Sunbathing on the beach in our clothes

Refreshed back on the coach after fish and chips

Now reminds me of Bray Beach in Wicklow

Two daughters, five grandchildren

Getting late, everyone hungry

Queue up for bags of chips

Mouth-watering aroma wafting from the Take-a-Way

Salt and vinegar, almost drooling

Chips so hot the children have to blow on them

Shrieks when young William drops his on the sand

Minor disaster

Squalls of seagulls swooping down on the fallen chips

To the roars of delight from the children

As the birds duck and dive for the feast left behind

Josephine Nolan