On Sunday, J and I made our way out to the seaside. Exmouth, to be precise.
Exmouth is a small town on the South Devon coast. It's very sweet- a proper old school seaside town, with a long promenade, terraced houses turned into guest houses and hotels, and a long expanse of sand. Quite the place to spend a sunny Sunday, I'm sure you'll agree. Particularly a Sunday sunny enough to go tight-less for the first time this year- finally!
We wandered slowly along the seafront, before tiptoeing down onto the sand. J retained his shoes. I did not. There really are few greater pleasures than burying your toes in warm sand- particularly the first burying of toes into warm sand of the year.
We picked our way across the sand towards the sea, where I promptly dashed straight in for a paddle. J couldn't be convinced, but clearly, I was rather happy about it. It was flipping freezing, in case you were wondering, but I'm not very good at being near the sea and not dipping at least a toe in. It's resulted in soggy jeans on multiple occasions.
J stood on the shoreline searching for flat stones to skim. I stood in awe, watching as the stones he threw skipped once, twice, three times, metres away from us. I made a few attempts- I have never been able to skim stones- and managed to get one stone to skip four times. You could probably hear my gleeful squeal in Cockwood, the village on the other side of the estuary.
We decided to quit while we were ahead, and headed back to dry sand to sit and people watch. And while we sat, chattering about nothing and watching the families chasing each other, a troupe of donkeys made their way along the shoreline with small people on their backs.
It's days like this that remind me that the UK is one of the most unbelievably brilliant places to live. In the sunshine, we really do have it all.