As we were walking across the Millennium Bridge from the north to the south I noticed a set of steps I'd never seen before leading down to the shore. The tide was out and the sun was shining so even though we weren't quite dressed for beach scoggling, the temptation was too much. As usual, it was the stones that caught my eye, beautiful granite slabs, serving some unknown redundant purpose perhaps.
John was wondering whether you need a licence to collect the small slabs of york stone washed up on the shore. We only need a few more bits for our allotment paths and there was plenty there just the right size. Too big for our pockets and I only had a small handbag, so we had to make do with arranging our finds on them instead.
Lovely old oyster shells, beautiful blue and white, ochre and brown glazed pottery, flints and cockleshells, rib bones and worn white pipe stems.
And a tiny sea beet - I think that is what it is -at least 15 feet below the high water mark. I think you can eat this stuff, though it would be a pity to harvest something clinging on so tenaciously.
We made it across to the Tate in the end, over the bridge that is, to see this and I came home thinking of odd shapes and new skirt fabrics covered in chains and cranes and tractors.