Sea Fever Part II with apologies as before.

I must go down to the seas again, it's the call of the running tide

To stand in the waves with your socks off is something which must be tried.

Can you smell the ozone?

The beach at last!  The sun had disappeared for the foreseeable future

behind a bank of low, grey cloud and the wind was freshening as I kicked

off my shoes and ran the last few yards into the gently ebbing waves.

All in all a bloody freezing but exilirating experience which definitely

had hit the spot.  However, in my unstoppable desire to paddle with all

possible expediency I had completely forgotten to bring a towel with

which to dry my tootsies so consequently my toes ended up completely

encrusted with sand as I made my way back up the beach through all

the bits and pieces that has washed up on the last tide.  Hey ho!

Surely not Sherlock Holmes?

Another of my great pleasures when at the seaside is pebble collecting 

so having paused to admire some pebble art left by the unknown "Holmes"

some time this year, I proceeded to fill the two back pockets of my elastic

waisted jogging bottoms to capacity with said objects.

No wonder they came down.

I was still quite some way from the car when the sheer weight of pebbles

combined with the force of gravity began to lower my trackies to well below

half mast and so with only the Owl Meister, the trannie and half a dozen

sleepy owls to bear witness to my undignified moon I said a hurried farewell

to Caister-on-Sea and sandy footed it back across the marshes to the Lock-up

and a nice hot cup of tea.