On the Sands

This young fellow looked like a entrant in the Marathon des Sables as he ploughed his way manfully through what must have seemed miles of sand to him. There didn't appear to be any other runners and there seemed no obvious check point. I expect his mother was really keeping an eye out for him wherever she was.

With the call of the hills luring His Lordship away, I was down at the seaside to see my newly acquired Porty daughter and have coffee with her. The sun shone, the tide was out and families with their dogs had miles of sand to play on.

Oh that it had been weather like this when we were up north last week, I might have struggled into my cozzie for a cooling dip.......... Or maybe not. Fishermen wear survival suits in the waters of the Moray Firth and North Sea.

All the way home on the bus I was silently singing 'Didn't we have a lovely time the day we went to Bangor.....' By Fiddler's Dram