Stolen minutes


I had to find a shop at the end of the day, and I had to be quick before they all closed.  I hate shopping.  I went to a nearby town and (naturally) immediately bunked off to the beach.

There’s something about cockles that makes you feel as if you have gone on holiday:

The rocks are an artificial breakwater, but they have settled in.  So has the jetsam.

A mystery: do the periwinkles get lost, are they distracted by food sources invisible to us, or are they just incurable flibbertigibbets?

On shifting sands, hold tight to the security of any small rock; or at least onto your neighbours; or both

One eye on the sky.  I managed to get off the beach before the next shower came over.

Doubly deceived:  the seaweed’s holdfast had a pebble where it needed a rock; so did the molluscs.

This tiny periwinkle proceeds undaunted through a huge landscape of lugworm casts:

Of course I had to go right down and watch the making tide.  Of course I got my feet wet. Again.

I had time to visit one shop.  I bought two garments I might consider wearing when I need to look respectable, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s quite enough.


10 responses »

  1. I think we need some new words to be invented.
    One for being unable to leave a bookshop without buying something, probably that you will never read.
    Another word for going into a shop and forgetting what you went in there for, or deciding you didn’t really need it, and coming out with something completely different.

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