One of the bestest things about living by the seaside is, without a doubt, low tide. There is nothing finer than walking on the firm sand among the shallow puddles of sea water left behind by retreating, gentle waves, looking for familiar shapes among the wormcasts.
Seeing your treasured dog leaping along in the shallow water, exuding the purest joy, makes this even better. I am at once relaxed and a million miles from this infernal computer, and filled with happiness in seeing the joy in her. Wonderful.
There's been a geography field trip in town this week, probably from London, where low tide brings a bad smell and dusk is lit by orange sulphur. I hope they appreciated the differences, though I know I think of London and long for the scale of art & culture we lack here. In their passing along the beach the teenage geographers left behind them a trail of footsteps, dragged equipments and exotic names scratched in the sand. They also left a few hearts. I missed most, as I only saw them after dark, but Hannah and Andy are celebrated here, along with the last of the setting sun as it picked out the boats on the bay.
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