Squalls and howling wolves
With Lorraine there, I managed to sleep like a baby. A worrying development. Does this now mean that sleeping without Lorraine induces nightmares? A relaxed start to the day, although I got up early to do some writing. Eventually, after a tomatoes on toast breakfast we sloped off to Icart. A fine bright morning, with the sun shafting through onto the cliffs bringing all the autumnal colours out: the dark greens, russets and purple of the cliffs, and the turquoise sea. After walking around to the top of Saints Bay, we decided to walk back. The sky suddenly dark and brooding, and we watched as a squall raced towards us over the sea, the wind picked up dramatically, and the sea turned rough and chopping, as we reached Icart icy rain was stinging our faces, and we were literally blown back into the carpark. Made off in the pouring rain to The Captains, where we had a late lunch of bottles of Pony Ale, which its label calls a Pale Ale despite it being dark. Sat quietly there engulfing a...