Spray to the West

Trebarwith Strand for sunset where we clung like limpets to the cliffpath and surveyed the wet-suited surfers, counted waves, mind-soared with the gulls and ignored the hordes of teenangsters vying for attention around us. The sunset won out quite easily. No Green Flash (Tom insists on such phenomena existing - I still am steadfast, that they're an early Dunlop trainer) but finished the day instead with chips & salad and a pint of the west country appley stuff. Arrr.