Rock around the pools

It’s another seaside outing, and this time church family.  Last Sunday saw a group of us head down to St Abb’s Head and Coldingham Bay, between North Berwick and Berwick on Tweed.

It’s been a mite wet in Scotland recently (she writes, having come home half soaked tonight), so our hopes were not great for the beach trip part.  However, coffees and biscuits in the church hall there helped us settle once we’d arrived, and the sun came out in earnest by c.2pm.

I was on rockpool duty with the two little boys of friends of ours for part of the afternoon.  The eldest had a theory that sand turned into wet sand, turned into frogspawn, turned into tadpoles…I decided not to knock the theory, so we went on to have a chat about frogs, while I also tried to avoid him hurling himself into the water while throwing the next handful of wet sand.

Last week involved a lot of late nights at work, so the contrast of sunshine, a few sandcastles, and slice of good cake being handed out was a good one!

After all, Brits discuss the weather so much that when it actually turns out all right, it ought to get a mention.