Tuesday, 2 October 2012

High Tide00:24 (2.50m)
Low Tide06:15 (0.80m)
High Tide12:28 (2.60m)
Low Tide18:40 (0.60m)
Sea temperature: 14.8 yesterday
Sea conditions: gentle waves, and a little murky
Weather: clear skies above but cloud over the sea, the sun was trying to break though, giving wonderful light over the water.
Joined by: Sara and The Poet
Topics of conversation:
I was late and got a ticking off. There were a couple of reasons, mainly that I had been picking breakfast. The field mushrooms are at their best at the moment and I like to pick them early, before the worms rise and whilst their is still dew on the caps. I offered to pick some for The Pirate tomorrow and he was understandably concerned that I knew what I was picking. I reassured him that not only had I been eating them from that field for about 25 years but that Wally and I used to race to get them. It's a sad fact that I will have less competition now that he's no longer with us, so I intend to share my pickings with his family too.
The other reason I was late was because I'd bumped into the Chairman of the Parish Council. There had been a momentous meeting last night, at which the entire Council had resigned and he was understandably in a bit of a tizz. It's been a long time coming and happened as a result of a campaign by 4 people who either live in the village or have holiday homes here. They have been causing problems for the council for 3 years now but their efforts have recently increased with the aim of destroying the council, which they have now done, so hopefully they will now 'go away', having no one to harangue. The councillors will hopefully start to get some sleep at last too.
The Pirate feels the events are akin to a plot of The Archers, yet again, and informed us that this would have caused the special theme tune to be dusted off and played at the end I think. Having since seen a notice on the board outside the village hall I think he's right - it is like a soap opera.

Tankers - The Pirate, on full melancholy form took one look at a large boat out to sea and proclaimed something along the lines of "One day there's going to be a massive disaster out there and one is going to leak oil into our water, ruining our lives!" He was told to stop but this only served to rile him further and he began speculating about the seaworthiness of various countries' vessels. He's really on form this morning, as we were leaving the beach he sang his alternative version to "All Things Bright and Beautiful" (I'll have to get the words from him) which involved worms eating things alive from the inside. Oh Joy, we've got another couple of months of this.
The naked runner - as I'd arrived on the beach a runner, still clothed at this stage, had followed me over the dunes. He's not a regular on the beach, I'd have noticed him before. As he saw the others in the water and me stripping off and running in to meet them he was stopped in his tracks. You could almost see him thinking "now there's an idea..." By the time we were getting out it was obvious that he'd only run a few hundred yards further and decided to throw caution to the wind. His naked form was just visible as he got out and both DK and Sara were surprised, having not seen him get in. Well I think they were surprised, they were staring and pointing...
My blogging is slightly curtailed as a result of my refusing to upgrade my keyboard, call me old fashioned but I like the 'delete right' key so I still use one which apparently is irritatingly noisy. So much so that Mertz has asked me not to type when he is around. Yes, I'm serious. The Pirate has offered to lend me an old fashioned typewriter to remind Mertz what it used to be like. This week he's even home on a Tuesday, so I shouldn't really be typing but as work on the sauna has started and there is a nail gun going off as well as Kiss FM blaring from the shed I've told him to go into his office and stick his headphones on. I've got 3 week's worth of house work to do this morning, so he'll have to put up with Radio 6 and the hoover too.
Must ask Sara and The Poet what Freud made of dreams which continue the next night from where they ended. They've been on a course and are now the authority in the village.

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