Tragedy hit our little town yesterday evening.
It had been a lovely, sunny, summer day and there were lots of people still about at 6 pm. At the beach a little 4 year old boy was on the slipway, with his parents when he slipped into the sea. At that time the water was about 5 feet deep but the tide was rising and the currents here are very fast (we have the 2nd highest rising tide in the world). We are situated at the end of the Bristol Channel and the water is muddy and murky. His parents jumped in immediately to try to save him but they couldn't find him. The emergency services were called within a couple of minutes and from about 6.15 onwards there were helicopters circling, the lifeboats were out from this town and the surrounding areas and our local hovercrafts also joined in the search. It carried on through the night and most of today but the latest news is that the search has been called off; it feels as though the town is cloaked in sadness.
Three of our grandchildren are going through a traumatic family time at the moment and I sometimes have difficulty sleeping. Last night I got up around 1.30 and looked out of our front windows, which overlook the beach. I could see the lights of the boats that were still patrolling, looking for the little boy. I felt terribly sad as I gazed out into the blackness but at least I knew that my grandchildren were safe in their beds.
Poor little Dylan never stood a chance.
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