In Search of a Title

You know how when you went to the beach as a kid it never rained, the sky was bright blue and the water was turquoise. The long stretches of beach were mostly empty of people, but strewn with so shells, pretty stones and other treasures you couldn't pick them all up. And the waves as they came in would rise and rise, so even at the parent-approved depth of mid-thigh level they'd break over your shoulder or over your head, and if you placed yourself right, you'd be carried right up to the shallows. But if you misjudged a wave, you'd find water under your feet and foam around your head, and a horrifying moment where you weren't sure which way up you should be.

Then you grew up, and beaches become less interesting, invariable busy and going into the water meant standing there, jumping over small waves so you wouldn't get wet all over. And you knew those remembered wonderful beach trips from childhood were really just the best bits from various trips over the years.

( Really )

Some photos from our beach trip the other weekend.



( More photos, of course )

I am sorting out photos from our stay at the beach last weekend. Hawley is up the north west, about 15 minutes from Devonport. Rather busy for winter, although it was the last long weekend until November.

The white dot is a seagull, having a swim.