More murk

I think this is the murkiest July I can remember.  
More like November light than high summer.

At times there were dramatic lines - some black, some brilliant silver where the murk meets the sea.  I watched them change whilst on Skype and phone, unable to drop the connection to capture the drama.  Another day perhaps.

The extra is one of the the Red-Funnelled Boats referenced here, a day or two back.  A rare sight in these parts now, an icon of childhood.  And, for me, escape.