Dear Diary, The sun shone from a clear blue sky, the birds whistling a morning chorus louder and sweeter in spring, and as Anne and I had no particular plans in mind our breakfast table discussion centred on how to fill in the day. Not that there isn't enough to occupy two elderly ladies. Spring is in the air, our spirits soared, an outing seemed a wonderful way to enjoy the day.
Where to go? Well Dear Diary, Anne lives but a hop and a step from the beach. The waves slid onto the sandy shore, leaving a smattering of foam resembling the washing machine before the first load is placed in. There was no need to go further. Gathering together a couple of small towels, a flask of tea, two ham and mustard sandwiches on thinly sliced bread, because Dear Diary today we intended acting like the ladies we are, and secreted into a small container placed carefully in the basket were two pieces of Anne's delightful shortbread. We had enough sustenance to allow us several hours wandering along the tide mark.
The seagulls strode along the sand, convinced they had the sole rights to the beach. How I wished for a dog at that moment! We picked up shells, some delicate after their arduous journey from the deep, others split and cracked with age. That these shells add to the sand on the shoreline was obvious; some were closer to sand than shells. I carried a piece of stick, partly as a walking aid, and partly to poke amongst the seaweed lying in untidy heaps at the high tide mark. I like to think that one day I will find some ambergris or some other treasure; perhaps a letter in a bottle even! Ambergris looks such a ho-hum substance, but its worth as a fixative in perfumes is exceptional. I wonder if the rich and famous who dab their pressure points with expensive perfume realise part of that dabbing comes from the intestine of a sperm whale. As Anne and I discussed the connection between sperm whales and perfume we burst into fits of laughter. What a scenario!
We wandered across to a rocky outcrop where small pools glistened in the morning sun. Cockabullies darted between the jutting edges, and a star fish appeared to be lying on a ledge enjoying the warmth from the sun. So much life in those rock pools if we sit and watch. A large wave crashed closer sending us scuttling towards the relative safety of the sand.
As we hopped down from the last rock Anne slipped landing in a bundle on the damp sand. As I attempted to help her to her feet she groaned in pain clutching her ankle, which was caught under her body in an awkward way. It did not look good Dear Diary, and in a kind of panic I peered up and down the beach for a good Samaritan.
A gentleman rushed over and offered to help. As I began to thank him Anne exclaimed, "Richard! What are you doing here?"
Dear Diary, the knight in non-shining armour was indeed Richard. I didn't care what he was doing there! Instead between us we managed to haul Anne to her feet and using my stick with Richard and I on either side, we managed to get her to Richard's car, which was parked nearby. Anne rested for a while. We tried desperately to persuade her to go to Outpatients at the hospital, but she was insistent she was alright, in spite of the yellow/blue bruise makings itself obvious on her ankle.
As she kept on refusing to go for medical help, there was no option for us but to take her home.
After a short while she professed to be much better, and could indeed manage to walk with the aid of the stick. We agreed to review the situation the tomorrow.
I rustled up some more sandwiches, raided the tin for shortbread, and made a pot of tea. Richard stayed for a short while, but after drinking two cups of tea left ... he had chores to attend to. Anne gave me a wicked wink as he murmured his apologies and goodbye's ... she knows where his interests lie!
Where to go? Well Dear Diary, Anne lives but a hop and a step from the beach. The waves slid onto the sandy shore, leaving a smattering of foam resembling the washing machine before the first load is placed in. There was no need to go further. Gathering together a couple of small towels, a flask of tea, two ham and mustard sandwiches on thinly sliced bread, because Dear Diary today we intended acting like the ladies we are, and secreted into a small container placed carefully in the basket were two pieces of Anne's delightful shortbread. We had enough sustenance to allow us several hours wandering along the tide mark.
The seagulls strode along the sand, convinced they had the sole rights to the beach. How I wished for a dog at that moment! We picked up shells, some delicate after their arduous journey from the deep, others split and cracked with age. That these shells add to the sand on the shoreline was obvious; some were closer to sand than shells. I carried a piece of stick, partly as a walking aid, and partly to poke amongst the seaweed lying in untidy heaps at the high tide mark. I like to think that one day I will find some ambergris or some other treasure; perhaps a letter in a bottle even! Ambergris looks such a ho-hum substance, but its worth as a fixative in perfumes is exceptional. I wonder if the rich and famous who dab their pressure points with expensive perfume realise part of that dabbing comes from the intestine of a sperm whale. As Anne and I discussed the connection between sperm whales and perfume we burst into fits of laughter. What a scenario!
We wandered across to a rocky outcrop where small pools glistened in the morning sun. Cockabullies darted between the jutting edges, and a star fish appeared to be lying on a ledge enjoying the warmth from the sun. So much life in those rock pools if we sit and watch. A large wave crashed closer sending us scuttling towards the relative safety of the sand.
As we hopped down from the last rock Anne slipped landing in a bundle on the damp sand. As I attempted to help her to her feet she groaned in pain clutching her ankle, which was caught under her body in an awkward way. It did not look good Dear Diary, and in a kind of panic I peered up and down the beach for a good Samaritan.
A gentleman rushed over and offered to help. As I began to thank him Anne exclaimed, "Richard! What are you doing here?"
Dear Diary, the knight in non-shining armour was indeed Richard. I didn't care what he was doing there! Instead between us we managed to haul Anne to her feet and using my stick with Richard and I on either side, we managed to get her to Richard's car, which was parked nearby. Anne rested for a while. We tried desperately to persuade her to go to Outpatients at the hospital, but she was insistent she was alright, in spite of the yellow/blue bruise makings itself obvious on her ankle.
As she kept on refusing to go for medical help, there was no option for us but to take her home.
After a short while she professed to be much better, and could indeed manage to walk with the aid of the stick. We agreed to review the situation the tomorrow.
I rustled up some more sandwiches, raided the tin for shortbread, and made a pot of tea. Richard stayed for a short while, but after drinking two cups of tea left ... he had chores to attend to. Anne gave me a wicked wink as he murmured his apologies and goodbye's ... she knows where his interests lie!
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