Light and Shade

Every wave caught the light as it crashed and spread across the sand and shingle today, seemingly made up of spun glass. The sight was so beautiful that I spent a while trying to capture it on film. The North Sea is usually a murky grey/brown, and it is hard to imagine that something so lovely and pure-looking as surf can be a product of it. The sun glinted through the rapidly vanishing foam sending my photochromic lenses into protective darkness, and I had to keep lowering my glasses to get the full effect. Dunwich Cliffs and Minsmere were unusually busy, it being the last day before the schools go back, but who could return early to the city when the coast was in show-off mode, pulling out all the stops to dazzle and please? It's been many months since I walked here, and I've missed it. Over Christmas we tramped at Walberswick and Aldeburgh where civilisation promised refreshments, but didn't make it to the wilder parts. Nor have I been to Cove Hythe for a while, where the cliff's erosion creates a dramatically changed coastline on every visit. There's so much to see here, so many places to go. This morning it was clear, sunny, windless and very cold, perfect beach-walking weather. With our flaming cheeks, cosy hats and big smiles we promenaders made a happy sight, and we acknowledged each other with the sort of friendliness that goes with Christmas, New Year, and any kind of perfect day.

Murky, blue and translucent all at once

On another note I've taken down the Christmas decorations and stripped the tree. The former were deliberately sparse, but accidentally throwing away the majority of my Christmas cards when I moved them from the kitchen to the sitting room didn't help; I tried upending the recycling bin but in full gale-force winds that was never going to end happily. But the tree was cheerfully covered, and has surprised me by shedding almost no needles. Only as I manhandled it through the the garden room french windows did it spill a little. What a splendid tree it was! £20 from the market and quite the nicest one I've ever had. If I knew what it was I'd try to get the same again next year, especially since Medlar Cottage has been designated official Christmas venue for the forseeable future.

Best tree evah, whatevah it is

And on a different note again I was very pleased to have a visit from my next-door-neighbour Mark. He's putting in a new kitchen, and wanted to warn me that he will have to turn the water off for half an hour tomorrow. No problem, I told him, and asked how the work was going. With the house to himself on New Year's Day, he told me, his wife off early to work, he'd got quite a lot done. I know, I said, laughing, I heard you hammering at 7.50am when my guest and I were brutally awakened after a not particularly heavy night with a bottle of champagne (though I didn't use the word brutally, or mention the champagne). He looked stricken and apologised again and again, telling me that with Sharon out of the house he hadn't even looked at the time. I was so relieved that he wasn't doing it deliberately - small hint of paranoia creeping in there, but it did seem odd - that I practically hugged him. "You're the quietest neighbours imaginable," I responded. "It was so out of character ... " and he looked equally relieved. Happy New Year village mine, and all who sail in her. You've been so easy to live in this past 11 months, and to love.