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On another splendid September summer’s morning, Jackie drove us to Calshot and back.
Calshot Beach had just two occupants: the proverbial one man and his dog.
A woman was discussing the refurbishment of her beach hut. What had at first seemed a simple carpentry job had developed into a bit of a rebuild because of the discovery of dry rot and woodworm.
Betsy, at number one, was able to enjoy the sunshine outside her delightfully appointed summer house.
These huts threw long shadows in the sunshine.
Some boats were moored;
others sailed behind the cricket stumps – http://www.royal-southern.co.uk/News-Desk/ID/1037/Yacht-Clubs-meet-for-the-annual-Bramble-Bank-cricket-match-in-the-middle-of-the-Solent – (Info courtesy of quercuscommunity.wordpress.com), deep on the boundary.
A seaplane droned overhead.
Calshot Beach is on a sand and shingle spit leading to Calshot Castle,
first seen through boats old
These masts belong to members of the Calshot Cats yachting club.
Across the water lies Fawley Power Station.
I was not the only photographer interested in the scene;
and crossing a lead with fishing rods, a young man engaged in a tug of war with his dog.
Turning my attention to the water, I tracked a speedboat
as it sped past the Red Funnel ferryboat,
then yachts, with the Spinnaker (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spinnaker_Tower) on the horizon.
Since the Olympics breakfast on 19th, I have been unable to face my favourite full English, so when we decided to lunch at the Activities Centre, I opted for ham, egg, and chips, which could be considered as breaking me in gently. Jackie chose vegetable soup and a baguette.
Whilst enjoying this, I watched silhouettes making their way along a distant sand spit.
Here is the history of the castle (enlargement should help).
We dined this evening on Chicken Kiev, Jackie’s piquant cauliflower cheese, and creamy mashed potato. I finished the malbec.