The Magic of a Beach

The Magic of a Beach

There’s something about a beach that gets under your skin. The magic of it isn’t just in the wide skies or the rolling tide – though Norfolk has those in abundance – but in the memories that collect there, like pebbles in a pocket.

As a child, the beach meant Holkham. It meant long winter walks with the dog, breath clouding in the cold air, and summer days stretched out on the sand, our mum unpacking one of her famously epic picnics. Egg sandwiches, homemade flapjacks, maybe a sausage roll or two, and always – always – a token apple, which was usually abandoned halfway through in favour of something sandcastle related.

But what I remember most is the boat. Mum would carve it out of the sand – a proper little rowing boat shape with raised edges and space for a crew. My sister and I would climb in, twigs for oars, seashells for decoration and set sail in our imaginations. Mum was an artist in sand, and those holidays were full of stories.

It’s something we’ve passed on to our Small. We've revisited those same sands, watched him dig where we dug, and paddled in the same shallow pools. These are the places that calm us, where the rhythm of the sea and the tide seem to steady everything else.

In my jewellery, those memories live on – especially in my beach bangles. They were born out of that coastline: the shells, the textures, the sense of time and tide and holding something close.

This summer, I’m quietly reshaping them. The designs are changing slightly – a little simpler, a little sleeker – still inspired by the same beaches, but with space for the wearer to bring their own story too. Sometimes, refining a piece feels a bit like smoothing a pebble in your pocket – it becomes softer, easier to carry, more quietly beautiful.

We’re taking a short break from the shop soon and heading north to the Scottish Highlands – to beaches that are wilder and more windswept but no less magical. I’ll still be packing egg sandwiches, of course (though I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the heights of my mum’s picnic planning), and I’ll be gathering ideas, treasures, and maybe a shell or two to take home.

Wherever you find your calm this summer – whether on familiar sands or somewhere new – I hope it brings you a little peace, a little joy, and maybe a story worth keeping.

With love,
Claire x