Mudlarks Lisa Rea Currie

Lisa Rea Currie

Mudlarks

I cast my expert eye over unearthed treasure. ‘What a great find, it looks old!’ The delicate pink and red flowers on the tiny shard of long-lost best china. Plucked from between rocks, shells and the seaweed, that makes us all wary of what else lies hidden.

More prizes uncovered: a glass bottle, almost perfect, shells with unexpected colours. Gathered into a backpack, nestled among a flask of half-drunk tea and just-in-case sunscreen.

The creeping waves return to reclaim the undiscovered, scouring precious patterns paler with sand and salt. Pushing us higher onto the rocks, towards home where our hoard will nestle in bed-side boxes of childhood joy.