Taking the air

I woke feeling a little glum today. Winter in the air, I think. Or tired after one of those weeks. A 7.30 beach walk fixed it for a while.  Chilly, a little thrilling because the murky water hinted at hidden secrets, but wonderful none-the-less. Glum crept up on me an hour or two later. One of those days when nothing does the trick. Hot milky coffee didn't touch it. The need for petrol gave me the excuse to go to the supermarket for three things we did need and some 70% dark chocolate that we didn't. It kind of took the edge off for a while. But then the doorbell rang and the postie delivered me an unexpected package with a foreign postmark. Mystifying. I mentally scrolled through recent evenings that had involved beer and a computer. Shamefully, I've got form on late-night online purchasing. The cat radiator bed. My intention was honourable. The cat, however was not amused. She gave me a look that only mothers and cats can, and made it clear that, without a co...

The sea was extraordinary this morning. The gentle off-shore breeze made tiny flicks on the surface of the water.  The tide was low, so we walked for a hundred yards before the sand sloped away. When finally I was submerged to my chin, the sea, with thousands of flicks, not big enough to make white horses, looked like the skin of a giant scaly animal, gently breathing.   I love that.  Face away from the land and watch the waves. A cormorant and a gull were mucking around much further out.  There's something about a cormorant that I think looks just like a pterodactyl. It's the angle of the wings, the ungainly elbows, or the length of its neck.  That shore-less view, with the sun just rising, might well have been the same for a million years.