The mother of all shells

In 1997, I visited a friend in West Africa. She was living and working in Liberia or Sierra Leone at the time, and suffering from the effects of continual war. We met in The Gambia, where a friend of hers was working for an NGO. Every day we walked the short distance from the house to the beach, and lay on the beach all day, reading our books and exchanging them when we'd done. Una decided to be my personal tanning coach, but let's just say that I've never resembled streaky bacon quite so much in my life as when she and the sun had done with me!

On the Sunday, we drove out to a beach some miles away. I remember crossing sand to get to the thatched 'palaver huts' and having to run because the sand was so hot! I also lay floating on my back in the Atlantic ocean for a very long time, perfectly at peace with the world. That goes in my top ten "where and when were you happiest?" moments.

Later, some boys came along selling these enormous shells. I think I misunderstood and thought they were giving it to me, but I must have been remarkably naive, and they can't have been very persistent...on the way back the 4-WD got stuck in the sand and we all got out to push. Dark had already fallen.

So, here is the shell, 16 years later, on my shelf. I finished sorting the last of the bookshelves in my study last night, after many hours. It was not exactly the sort of Friday night I had had in mind! Suddenly I remembered the blip-need and whipped out my camera. It was still on 'take a picture automatically when you see a cat's face" mode, (see yesterday's blip) and to my extreme surprise, it began seeing a face in the shell and clicking away by itself! I took some more artistic shots later on, but alas they were snapped after midnight. So this, and the memories, will be my Friday blip.