Stories at sundown

Well, in the space of five minutes at sunset, I knew her two best friends were decapitated (in separate incidents (how horrific!)), a 30-foot sink hole had appeared up the road, a few people over the years had been swallowed by the cliffs and five of her cockerels had died in the last few months, one this morning (old age, it seems). It was a morbid but fascinating conversation with the lovely owner of the campsite I'm staying in. 

She was ever so friendly.

I heard about their harsh winter where this year, as farmers, they spent 46 nights on the trot gritting the roads and in 2008, it was -16.

We had links to Leeds and I felt a bit sad when she left. It felt like I could have had a chat with her over a cup of tea for another couple of hours. I can imagine as a born and bred local lady, she'd have a whole stream of fascinating stories.

Behind her as she chatted, a single thin cloud lit up in a ridiculously similar shape to the UK but it's all changed now so that won't be blipped. 

A little bug from the morning walk, I suspect.  
...Yep, a megaloceroea recticornis, I believe!