Mist in the hollow, fine day to follow

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That is as maybe, but the mist I saw last night went on to engulf the whole of our coast line. It was a strange sight and not one I can remember seeing before. It was coming up the river mouth until the whole of Middlesbrough, Eston and Redcar was under a blanket of grey. The cloud was so low that you could see the tall industrial chimneys and structures peering over the top and with the sun going down - I couldn't resist hanging out of the side window and taking a couple of shots.

Again I feel I need to apologise for not writing more often and yes I have been out and about a lot; but I miss writing more than you do reading. So, I decided recently to write a book. Now I am going to be realistic and say it will probably take me between 1-2 years and no I have no experience so we will just have to wait and see. It was a few weeks ago when I was talking to a young person and asking what she was going to do with herself over the summer vacation; If I had 8-weeks to do what I liked, I would write a book; (I said without thinking), so why don't you came a voice as I traveled to Kent the other weekend.

Kent was a crazy weekend, meeting up with friends, we were invited down to a local festival and the big event was Music in the Park with tribute bands Abba and Queen. 70's music still gets my feet tapping and I did manage a shuffle in my sandals, we had a great time and the 5 hour journey both ways gave me time to outline the book.

My knee has been playing up recently so I decided it was time for a nice walk on the beach. The weather has been so good (we are really not used to it) and I set a marker in the distance, to where I thought would be a good place to turn around and walk back. The beach was crowded near the town but as I headed off the sounds soon faded. I had seen earlier the drawings and names written in giant size upon the sand as I headed down the cliff steps; I walked through the drawing of a castle, complete with tower, drawbridge and cannon. Stones, sand, seaweed and shells; the sound of the sea, wildlife and wind (oh yes, it is always windy here). The more I saw the more I began to think, the drawings would only last till the next tide although the artists had already left the shore. Shells of creatures long vacated now decorate the beach with their colour and shape. Stones being made into pebbles, washed and ground, chipped and smashed; revealing something new from long long ago. A friend of mine is a geologist and could pick up most of this stuff and give a short lecture on each one. I realised I was walking in a time zone spanning centuries and little me kicking up stones and turning over shells, when they talk about the sands of time I always think of those nice tidy egg timers - but these really are sands of time.

Note to evening office: Help me to see people as stones and shells; unique, and each one has a story.
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