getting brave

A lovely bright dry cold day.

As always the boy wanted to go to Long Strand. But instead of capering about in the dunes, climbing and sliding and lying in wait to jump out at me as he would have done not so long ago, now he saunters along the beach examining every stone. And by the time we were back at the car park he was weighed down with an assortment of rocks which, he said, were quartz with veins of silver.

We went then to Galley Head, continuing the braving the cliffs theme. He loved the deep gash in the ground there where the sea spurts in, the high cliffs, the caves and arches.

We took him home this evening and left him crushing his rocks with a hammer. He is going heat them next and extract the silver, apparently, and make his fortune.