Gone shrimping

Well the sun shone on Fleetwood beach this morning and the tide was so far out that it stretched before us for about half a mile. The sand was so inviting that the dogs were eager to be off although I had to follow at a more sedate pace, mostly because the sand often became a morass of mud and I had to be careful not to sink into it. Down at the water's edge there were several men with fishing lines hoping probably for plaice, according to my brother-in-law, and even two in the water with large shrimping nets. As they waited for fish to bite they were pumping the sand to bring up worms for bait.

This bicycle almost certainly belonged to one of the shrimpers and the big sieve, with "Dad's" written on the side, enables the isolation of the bigger shrimps so smaller ones can be returned to the sea.

Yesterday's injury was a small hook which had been formed on one of the lower vertebrae during a rugby tackle and was causing pain and fainting. The surgeon apparently bashed it hard and that had sorted it!!