10,839 Steps

I estimate, on the Beaufort scale, that the sea was ‘slight’ today, the breeze ‘gentle’. 

What did the sea sound like?  Whispering kids at bedtime who have been told ’lights out’, and are not a bit sleepy.  Occasional muffled giggle as the incoming tide tickled the rocks.  It didn’t take long before a white breaker pillow fight started, the boisterous waves, the good-humoured beach.  All in good fun.  No screaming match here.

The caravan park was full to bursting.  Tents, mobile homes, remote control caravans that reverse park themselves.  Weird dogs and north east England accents.  Aging bikers searching for a café.   It’s a bank holiday apparently.  Nowadays, a bank holiday is a day when one is unlikely to have a whole cinema all to oneself.  Although on a sunny day like today, it’s possible. 

The clouds on parade were proudly cumulus, allowing the true blue sky its fair share in the march past.

The campions along the coastal walk are white, and it is buttercup and plantain time.  The gorse is fading but its perfume is still strong and the bees are not done with it yet.  Tufts of pink thrift pop up out of nowhere, beautiful against the yellow sunburst lichen on the mouse brown rocks.  Multiple white butterflies footered amongst the blossoms. 

The sailing club was making a day of it, white fins pristine against the dark blue sea.  The coastguards having a drill, orange rib boat jetting about, and two big bells and whistles trucks onshore.  The colours of the boats mirrored the oystercatchers and gannets handsomely.  It was picture perfect. 

Ideas came; words, salty seaweed printing by the sea. 

I bought some langoustine for dinner.  Flash fried in butter with more garlic that was strictly necessary.  The resulting sauté drizzled over lightly crushed boiled tatties.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4ggyO-OFXU