Balm for the soul

A wee balm for the soul, a beachcombing trip to the north coast, in the best company, cobwebs blown away by the freshest of breezes, where the treasures were tactile and vivid.

But what's with the middle aged lady sudden onset "i need a wee" when you are at the furthest possible distance away from a loo. I'm adding that to the growing list of middle aged lady nonsense, like chin hair and the unspoken but relentless search for the ultimate fair isle cardigan.

I miss the beach, it's been 2 and a half months since my last visit.