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Today the gloomy gales are back.
Headlights were the order of the day, even at 3.00 p.m. when we arrived at an almost deserted Mudeford Quay, where I brightened none of my photographs, in order that readers could see what we saw.
My specs and camera lens dripping with fat raindrops; coat soaked by salty sea spray; legs braced akimbo in an effort to stay upright, I had great difficulty in focussing on anything.
Distant hardy sailboarders, one dog walker;
a lad and his Dad trying at angling;
windswept women straining to steady buggies;
even a solitary gull out of its element, struggled against the gusts,
although some of the birds took to the air in search of sustenance, while crows remained on the car park tarmac.
Networks of glistening roots lay poised to trip the unwary.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s spicy penne Bolognaise and Cook’s choice crumble crusted macaroni cheese furnished by Ian, with which Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Malbec.