MY teenage grandsons have been staying with us, on their annual holiday. 

We visited a local ‘hidden gem’ on bicycles. A wooded glen with a waterfall falling in a rocky cove. The boys loved exploring the area and on returning home asked if they could visit it again. We returned two days later. This time, the weather was even better and as we came through the trees, the North Sea appeared before us, an iridescent Mediterranean blue, matching the sky. A small yacht was moored in the cove and added to an idyllic scene. 

The boys went off to explore. Some families were picnicking and examining rock pools in the cove below the ledge, on which I remained. One father had gathered a few sticks of driftwood and was showing his children how to make a fire in a small circle of rocks. A fragrant, light pall of smoke drifted upwards to near where I was sitting on a boulder, reading the Sunday papers. The only sounds were of laughter and waves gently lapping the shore. It was warm, sunny, peaceful and pretty near perfect.

A few people came up and down the paths and an older couple appeared with a dog. The man climbed down to the pebbly beach with the dog, to take photos of the waterfall. The woman stood on the ledge and turned to me, saying with faint disgust, “I’ve come all this way for this! There aren’t even any seats.” I suggested that the boulders made comfortable seating. The woman moved twenty feet away, across the waterfall, to sit on a rock in the shelter of the cliff.

She managed to get a signal on her mobile phone and spoke loudly about her dissatisfaction with everything. After the phone call, she made a roll-up, which she smoked with vigour. The pleasant, light breeze meant that her face was enveloped in smoke. I make no judgement on the woman’s activities, only in being bemused about what happened next. The man returned with the dog and the woman walked back across the rocks to join them. As they passed me on leaving the cove, she turned to me again and said, “ those people with the fire have ruined it for everyone.”

The boys arrived back full of wonder at their exploration of the glen. They sported grubby knees and wet shoes. They had taken photos of what one of them called called, “the prettiest place I have ever seen.” I suggested exploring a different path, which they did happily and provided further delights. I thought that their beloved electronic devices couldn’t provide such memories.

I returned to my Sunday papers. In one article, someone had written about Sherlock Holmes. They wrote that Sherlock was often saying to Dr Watson, “You see, but you don’t observe.”

Perhaps the same could be said for some of the visitors to the cove that afternoon.

- Rita Leaman is a psychotherapist and writer who lives in North Yorkshire. As Alison R Russell, she is the author of ‘Are You Chasing Rainbows?’ www.chasingrainbows.org.uk 

She also writes a blog on emotional health: http://alisonrussell275.blogspot.co.uk