Tyninghame Trip

Was awoken this morning by Andy carrying a paper plate, on which he'd drawn a hearty breakfast. "Happy Father's Day!" he shouted. After some great presents (those boys have excellent taste) I was treated to the real thing.

In the afternoon, we walked down to Tyninghame beach. I really like this mossy old pillar lying on the path through the woods: maybe one of these days, I'll get round to finding out what it is. Noticed some great swirly patterns in the rocks on the beach - and of course, George had to walk through all the rock pools.

Somewhere nearby, there was the sound of a shotgun: poor old Molly had this odd look, as if to say "shouldn't I be doing something?"