So. Yeah. Hello again.
I'm not dead, nor have I been captured by pirates and sold into slavery, to be rescued in a breathless paragraph in Chapter 27 by Conan the Barbarian. Dammit.
I've been doing a bit of travelling, of late. Nothing too fancy. Well, you know me. I don't like to be a trouble.
Where have I been? Well, I'll tell you.
1) Sussex. Went down to visit my lovely Mum for a day, which was very pleasant. Also called in at Youngest Sis's house where I was roundly trounced on the Wii Formula 1 car racing game by several children. The kitten, as is traditional, migrated immediately to Mr WithaY, where it fell into a deep and peaceful sleep on his lap.
2) Cornwall. We were invited by some mates to join them for a couple of days at their little holiday cottage thing in St Ives. I'd never been to St Ives before, and I can recommend it. Probably best not to go in the summer though. I imagine it would be a complete fucking nightmare then. But in early October it was lovely.
We went to the beach one afternoon. It was glorious. The sun shone, the sky was blue, the sea was emerald green and had a seal in it, swimming about 6 feet from the beach. Of course, nobody took a photo. We were all too busy pointing and exclaiming how close it was to us.
Our friends produced a kite from the boot of the car. I sat on the sea wall to watch. For some strange, possibly eldritch, reason I decided to "just watch" the others fly the kite up and down the beach. I don't know...maybe it was a foreboding. A little flash of foresight. A teeny glimpse into the future. Who knows.
Plus, my ankle was hurting after walking around up and down some steep hills, so I thought a rest would be nice.
Our friend went first, launching the kite with enthusiasm, and making it dart around the sky like a professional. It had a long red tail*, so looked most impressive, looping and fluttering for many yards behind the kite itself. After a while, Mr WithaY wanted to have a go.
The wind seemed to have dropped a little, so it was much harder to get the kite off the ground. Mr WithaY had to run a fair way down the beach to actually get any kind of lift on it.
There were people on the beach.
If this was a disaster movie, we'd have little vignettes of the people on the beach about now.
...The cheerful Asian family having a teatime picnic on a blanket.
...The dad and young sons digging in the sand.
...The elderly couple walking their small yappy dog along the waterline.
...The young mother, quietly breastfeeding her baby as she sat and enjoyed the sparkling water and warm sun of the early evening.
Ah. So peaceful. So relaxed. I think there would have been a cheerful, optimistic soundtrack too, maybe something by the La's.
But then, all of a sudden, the music changes. A menacing note is heard. Mr WithaY is running backwards along the beach, desperately trying to keep the kite airborne. The wind has dropped and the kite is dropping with it, swooping low and fast near the innocent bystanders. People are starting to watch with alarm as the kite cuts through the air, narrowly missing the small yappy dog.
Personally, I would pay money to see a small yappy dog knocked sideways into the sea by a kite, but maybe that's just me.
The lady with the baby was now watching with alarm as Mr WithaY drew parallel with her, the kite darting up and down, closer and closer to her, and of course, to the baby. I could see from my vantage point on the sea wall that things could turn ugly.
However. Nature took a hand. Across the beach ran a small river. It was in a shallow cleft in the sand, several feet wide and about 6 inches deep, the water running through it slowly. Most scenic.
Mr WithaY, eyes fixed on the errant kite, desperate hands on the kite handles, continued running backwards. Right up until he fell over backwards into the river.
The beach erupted in laughter; apparently the man standing behind Mr WithaY almost fell over too, he was laughing so hard. Mr WithaY extracted himself from the river with dignity and squelched back across the beach to sit by me on the sea wall.
The kite? Well, that sank to the ground like a bird landing on a tree, the tail curving gracefully around it.
3) Gloucester. We went up for a weekend to visit our lovely mates and their three mad spaniels. It was marvellous.
Work is a bit stressful, what with the massive cuts and all, but hey ho, what will be will be.
My ankle is still a bit buggered, but is recovering slowly.
I have lost 2 stone in weight so far, and am sticking with it. Only 4 more to go.
That is all.
*The kite. As far as I know, our friend has no tail, red or otherwise.