Boat lights, mists and spray

One of those North East winter days when the sea, the sand, the sky and the dunes all just seem to be too tired to keep it together, all but draining themselves of their own colours and becoming one big and blurry shape shifting shade of grey. And we feel it in our heads, in our bones, in our windswept hair and on our rosy cheeks. Times of such change, on a day such as this, demands going home to a chocolate bar or biscuits the size of your face, washed down with at least 3 cups of tea.

Tess has a thing of just lying down for a low down look-see at the world, snow, wet sand, no matter the weather. Take a load off.