I've been feeling really meh recently. Miserable weather does me in, and so far August has been a bleedin' awful month as far as weather is concerned. I'd thought that was it: another poxy English summer crawls to its grotty end ... and then today arrived.
Today was magical! Today was shorts and t-shirt weather, with a long, long walk on the beach. Of course I should have been sorting out the container, but no chance. The sun pulled me elsewhere.
The tide was so far out that bones of the wreck of the Amsterdam - a Dutch East Indiaman that sank in 1749 - were visible. This is a rare event, and pulled a large audience of gawpers, including M and me. It was odd to think of the people that lost their lives all those years ago. I think I was expecting to feel something. A frisson, maybe. But no: nothing. Obviously I'm as psychic as a brick.