Floating Feather

I went to check the water troughs today and saw this little pigeon feather floating on the surface with some rain drops on it.

Oh, and a small dead fly for good measure.

The water is reflecting the colour of the sky - very grey, it poured soon after.

Catching up on work today - that's the downside of having a couple of days off.

The good thing about going away on your own is that people are more inclined to speak to you and strike up a conversation.

Yesterday, there were no more than a dozen people at the Putsborough end of the 3 miles of golden sand that is Woolacombe Bay and I started talking to a woman on the beach with her dog. It transpired that her parents had owned the hotel I had stayed at here, with my parents, some 40 years ago.

That is why I had gone to that particular place, to recall and clarify some early memories.
A rock we had sheltered under during a downpour. (Still there)
The sand dunes we played in. (Smaller than I recalled)
The beach hut café that sold surfboards, apples and sweets, as I remember, but very little else. (Sanitised and rather smart now)
The donkeys for rides on the beach, (No sign of them yesterday.)
The old (rather grotty) hotel burnt down at some point and has been rebuilt as apartments.


Family memories are such an important part of us, they help us to confirm our place in life. I am fortunate to have some fond ones.

Tomorrow I plan to recount the first holiday I spent on my own, unless something better turns up!