Fruits de mer

Beach combing nerdout. Tactile takeaway from the shoreline. Ceramic cream and old code bottle marble. Still addictive. Sheena may have been a punk rocker, but she maybe was a beach comber too. Okay, maybe not.

The other week it was gunfight at the O.K Corral time. Another beachcomber appeared, a sullen man with a rucksack, on my patch! Okay, so I know it's not really my patch, but you do get a bit territorial about things. I left to go to another beach and he followed me there. Grrr. At one point it was like who could get to a good bit first. Dave was trying to get me to engage in covert beach combing warfare, but the chance of otters further up stole Colonel Kurtz away from me for a while so I reverted to ladylike thoughts. Sort of.