Biting wind stinging S's and my eyes and making our cheeks rosy; clambering over slippery rocks in sturdy shoes, navigating our way around rock pools and finally jumping down onto the soft sand. Pushing stray strands of hair back from my face to make it easy to chatter as we walked. Holding my gloved hands underneath my arms to stop them from going numb whilst staring in awe at the still sea-fishermen patiently braving the elements to catch their prize. Hurrying up the estuary path all too soon to meander up the cliff and find my car again. Jumping in the car, turning the heat right up and feeling our feet and hands slowly coming back to life. Stopping at The Pelican In Her Piety pub for a warming cup of coffee, sitting in the dark flagstoned room with one of my oldest friends for a good long while talking about our favourite beach, men, books and friends we have lost touch with ...
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