I have been longing to get to the seaside for ages. We tried a couple of times over the holidays but various mishaps prevented us - losing my specs (found by my son three days later in the gutter outside the house with one lens missing); losing the car key (found four days later under a cushion on the kitchen chair); being generally hacked off at losing things all the time; and then having to lay on the sofa for a day in shock after shelling out for two new pairs of specs. But we got there today, a day when the temperature soared to balmy nine and a half degrees C, the sheep were out on the marshes, the tide was in, and the sky cleared enough in the evening for a beautiful sunset and a glint of crescent moon. It was a day when the gods of thrift and geekery smiled down too - a toasted tea cake that actually tasted of spices; from a charity shop, a hand-knit sea green aran cardigan for me (no more feeling cold when I'm too mean to turn on the heating) and some new candy stripe cotton sheets; a book of Henry Moore's drawings and a half-pint glass for John; three pounds of Seville oranges for a marmalade fest.
Before we started out for home, we sat on a wall at the top of the hill overlooking the sea and listened to several robins singing in the trees, presumably marking out their territories. It put me in mind of Felix's wondrous balm for the soul mixdown of bird song.
And for a totally indulgent end to the day, we had a home-made all-day breakfast, a glass of beer and an evening of Sherlock Homes on Radio 7.
|Hobgoblin and half pint glass|
Sometimes it does not need very much at all to make a good day. Now all I have to do is to make some space for the haul, which is another story altogether.