The gale that had blown for nigh on three days had at last subsided overnight and the new day had dawned with a strange, round and yellow object in the sky.
Gossip over neighbouring fences suggested this was something called the sun, of which little is known other than in ancient folklore.
Regardless. With the wind now only light to moderate, there was at least the chance of getting wet once again.
Little debate for self as to which surfcraft to use as the swell, what of it there was, was only weak and messy. Belly time.
So; once a light lunch had been taken in the garden, allowing time for the tide to turn and begin it's next journey towards the higher of it's tide ranges; Sue and I chucked the gear into the car and headed beachwards.
By 2pm we were in and getting in some early, mellow rides. Nothing spectacular or banzai you understand, but it was better than nothing. And certainly a refreshing change to being restricted by the unseasonably autumnal conditions of late.
I would have said pleasant to once again be 'bootless', only that wouldn't be the case for Sue who; not for the first time in our surfing history; seemed to attract the only Weaver in the village to her left hoof.
Not that she was really aware of this until we called time as it poo-ed out after an hour or so....after which the ouchy bit kicked in on the stroll back to the car park.
What is normally a pleasant enough 'mosey along the beach' turned into a recreation of the Bataan Death March. Or so it seemed ;o)
Application of a hot water foot bath back home soon did the trick. And I'm sure that glass of red will restore the brave soldier back to full health too!
RLW 1921-2007 Is is really 5 years this week just past since we bid you farewell? Miss you still Dad.