March 2018

Woody leaves me to wander the beach while he fills up with fuel. The bottom step of the beach staircase has been washed away and I have no end of trouble trying to haul myself up to the first step. It’s a bugger this getting old caper.

I watch four blokes fishing at the outfall bridge. They’re catching the incoming tide. Thousands of fish of all sizes from minnows upwards are swimming in yet all that these guys can catch is sea lettuce. Does it matter? No, each ‘bite’ is rewarded with shouts of jubilation.