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As stated yesterday, Jackie drove us late in the afternoon to Steamer Point Nature Reserve where she parked the car and we walked down to Friar’s Cliff beach.
Here is the origin of the name of this area:
From the Nature Reserve, we could see
Highcliffe to our left,
The Isle of Wight and The Needles straight ahead,
and Friar’s Cliff Beach to the right.
A number of people were exercising their dogs on the sands
and in the water.
Two boys joined in.
It was not until I had moved along towards Friar’s Cliff Beach that I saw this notice.
It was just as well that I photographed the beach yesterday, because steady rain set in for the day as we entered The Beach Hut Café.
The reason we were here was that Jackie, drinking coffee here yesterday whilst I was photographing, had noticed Olympics breakfast on the menu. This was apparently something of a challenge, and came with a ‘no sharing’ rule. We decided I would try it for brunch. Our initial disappointment at its no longer being on offer was dismissed when we explained that we had only come for this treat and we were told that, in that case, they would produce one. This, of course, meant that I was really on my mettle. No way could I fall down on the challenge. Even though I did not know what this meal would contain. Jackie opted for the Big Breakfast which was, in itself, quite a challenge, but
nothing like this, which was placed in front of me with a certain amount of glee.
I had barely begun when Danny emerged from the kitchen and asked me ‘What is your tactic?’ Seeing that I clearly didn’t have one, our young friend, who had managed the feat on one occasion himself, suggested making sandwiches with the toast. As there were three fried eggs and six half rounds of toast, that is what I did.
In fact, I found myself imagining that I was in a generous Indian restaurant and reaching the painful stage when it was only my determination not to leave anything that kept me going. This helped, as did the periodic visits of the catering staff who informed me that I was ‘the best yet’, when I still had some way to go. Perhaps being a former marathon man trained to run through the pain barrier was of equal assistance.
When I was on the final lap, Jackie demanded the camera,
and stayed poised for the last mouthful,
and the empty plate.
I swear My Grandfather’s Shirt was not so tight before I sat down.
Should anyone feel inclined to enquire about my evening meal, I would simply refer them to my brunch.