|Saturday 14 March 1998||Back Next|
Laid in 'till very late (11:30 AM or so), read an article in a copy of Studio (A French film magazine) about "Titanic" (still haven't seen it.) Popped into Lynton for apple and cherry turnovers, then off to Brauton for fish and chips (very nice, £5). Then on to Saunton which is right on the sea with a very wide beach that is very flat (during low tide anyway) and goes on forever (forever.)
|<Sketch of Skippy with a kite>||Skip launched his kite in an initially dubious breeze, then played out a long length of string as we strolled down the beach. My idea of a beach has always been that of someone who's lived by on the the great lakes in Canada. There's often a coarse sandy beach 10-20m wide, often prone to erosion. The beach meets the water at a very definite angle. Like this:|
<Cross sectional elevation of a beach>
But here, with tides, and it being an island I suppose, the beach is very wide and flat so that the water washes up quite a long way without a lot of froth or splash. If you've ever watched a toilet overflowing, it's much the same.
We walk a long way over compact, damp sand which is hard and fine for walking. A scuba club dives a bit out to sea. They must be freezing. And Mad.
The sand is astoundingly soft in the dunes. If you dig down a bit, it's like brown sugar. Up top, more like velvet. A small quantity would remain in the cuffs of my pants for many weeks.
I change films, which reminds me to write down what I took, as if that'll be any help to anyone:
The best road sign spotted today: "Slow Children Crossing" (at Saunton.)
We dine at a much better place tonight, "Ye Olde Country Inne," a hard walk up a very steep hill. I have one of the specials, gammon with egg. Skip has the other special, roast chicken. We pass a while listening to old TV show themes being played on the stereo, drinking pints and tea beside a warm fire.
I'm just about to pop another recongestant pill and hope for an early sleep. Tomorrow, we make for Glastonbury Abbey, a cream tea, and home (Camberley, that is.) This room is bloody freezing.