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I trust my readers in the Philippines and the East Coast of America will forgive Jackie and me for choosing to visit the coast on a morning beset by winds of a mere 40 m.p.h.
Palms swayed in the wind at Milford on Sea; granite skies glowered over choppy waves; the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse were lent a translucent quality by the feeble, filtered, daylight and the misty sea-spray crashing on the rocks.
An unperturbed young lady ran along the coastal paths at a respectable rate;
four hardy sailors clung to stays on one side of a red-sailed yacht in efforts to keep the mast upright as it skirted the Isle of Wight, The Needles, and the lighthouse.
I think this was an egret fishing at Keyhaven,
while a preening gull perched on a heap of seaweed.
Two gentlemen passed stacks of colourful boats in the sailing club yard.
Readers are invited to suggest speech bubbles for these two.
In the field opposite Solent Grange stands a large haystack that defied the wind.
This evening we dined on Jackie’s luscious beef pie; creamy mashed potato; and crunchy carrots, cauliflower and cabbage. The Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden; Elizabeth, Patrick Chodot’s Fleurie 2016, and I finished the same producer’s Brouilly.