Red Point

Why would you want to limit yourself to the city
With so much to explore
Adore the wild
Find those places with no reception
And no conception
Of the rat race
I've travelled far and wide
Seen sights of antiquity
Thought boulevards pretty
Felt more heat on my back
Indulged in 10pm al fresco dining
But there's something they lack
In all that refining
There's something
About the landscape
The blue light of morning
The amber light of evening
The rocks on the hills breaking out
As if the land underneath
Has swelled to burst its skin
It's akin
At times
To masochism
To walk in the rain
Feeling the pain
Of the wind as it braces
Stinging cheeks on faces
But worth it
For those otter tracks in the sand
The Caribbean blue meeting the steadfast land
Protruding hills
To cure all ills
And well all's said and done
You can keep Paris
You can keep Rome
You can keep Athens
I'll always come home

(took a walk around the Red Point beaches today (seemingly getting it's name from the rather dark sand) in the sun, then the rain, then the sun - great day's walking, with bog and sheep and that sense of isolation)

(saw the shack at the end of the beach, then the bunting, and figured I had to grab a shot - something almost Caribbean about the look of it, and yet the walking boots... the threatening skies... This was possibly a salmon fishing bothy, there's one around here, but there were also two ruined stone buildings, so it's not entirely clear, but had certainly been used as a refuge sometime fairly recently)