The weather looked a little turbulent, but we decided to go for a walk anyway - from Minehead to Watchet. It started well, despite a thorough sand-whipping as we walked along the beach at Minehead. There was a picnic stop (Ritz crackers, Eccles cakes and ginger beer) and an ice cream stop (I had the Twister I'd been dreaming of).

We got to the point where we could continue along the beach or up and over the hill - I decided to trust G's map-reading skills (he was a Scout, after all), and we continued around the base of the cliffs. The fact that after this boulder field we didn't see another human should have really been a clue to stop, but we didn't.

I was getting increasingly worried about the tide and the fact we might not reach Watchet before it came in, and then I leapt over a stream of water onto a rock... which turned out not to be a rock at all, but a huge area of sinking mud. Prettttty much my biggest nightmare.

Graham managed to extract me (there was a lot of swearing from both of us I think), and we spent a while cleaning my jeans and shoes in various rock pools before scrambling back along to the path.

The cliff path was very steep and long and winding, but I passed the time by frequently reminding G that he should never have laughed at my 'irrational' fear. By the time we got to Watchet we were muddy and wet and exhausted, but we had just enough time to eat some chips and pasties before catching the last bus home.

Oh, and the 'path' that G was following on the map? It was actually a line showing the normal high tide line.