It was windy this morning, nothing spectacular like on the west coast, a mere force 4 to 5 but accompanied by rain every bit as wet as on the other side of the country. Nothing deterred, I donned full wet-weather gear and took a walk along the southern end of the promenade where, in the course of over an hour, I met three other walkers, three dogs, a retired postman whose morning's fishing had yielded one small whiting, a lady in a beach hut who popped her head out and offered me a cup of coffee....
....and a pair of turnstones which pursued me along the promenade and then down onto the shingle. I think the lady in the beach hut feeds them, hence their familiarity with humans and their knowledge of how to beg.
Windy weather could have brought some flotsam ashore but there was, as always along this beach, very little except several cuttlebones, some of them showing a pitting which suggests that something, perhaps a feral budgerigar, has been pecking at them.
This beach must be in the running for the world's most boring beach but today it did offer a little excitement, a tangle of creels and ropes washed up along the high-tide mark.
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