Dealing with death

The benches along the path between the High Street and the cockle sheds are dotted with withering bunches of flowers. More, like these roses, are tied to the railings overlooking the foreshore.

There are plaques on the seats remembering people who "loved this view" and laminated photographs of lost family lashed to the bench slats.

I'd not paid this maudlin scene much attention until today and I can't pretend I understand it, but coping with bereavement can never be 'one size fits all'.

"Looks like a bloody mausoleum, don't it?" said a man on his way past. "Some people..."