Tuesday 17th February

You would never guess what this platform is at Skinning Grove for, if I did not give it a caption.  It is the platform on which something like a dragon is burnt on Bonfire Nights for which hundreds of people come to watch as the fireworks light the sky.  We came on this several years ago, the 'we' is the family we had been following the coastal road, past the great potash mine, the deepest in the country, and then down we swooped to this rather drab village  and this strange wooden frame on the beach.  Allotments clung to the steep hill, and the whole scene set my soul into a downward spiral, and our arrival at some bleak seaside town did nothing to cheer me up.

If I could find the set of photos, there would Matilda soaking wet wrapped in my cardigan, after a great wave suddenly rolled onto the beach, catching her tiny legs and dragging her under, so that our laughter turned to fear as we all rushed to pull her out.  Lillie, a baby then, wrapped tight in her father's jacket as we faced the cold North wind, a typical seaside day in England.  It reminds me of my own childhood, holidays in Bournemouth, coming out cold from the sea, wrapped in a towel, teeth chattering, goose pimples........

Bleak cold Yorkshire beaches!

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Something more cheerful a photo taken yesterday on a walk round our area.  A small copse of snowdrops, they intrigue me.  This back lane belongs to the neglected outskirts of Chelmsford, forgotten land given to flooding, was there once a cottage here beside this small copse and that first clump replenished itself a thousand times I wonder? no history comes to light.....