Snow on the Beach...

....a sight which totally weirds me out. Back in the dark days of my youth, I went to see Pulp live in Bournemouth and I'm pretty sure that after the concert we went down to the beach and it was covered in snow. It was weird then, it's weird now. But who knows if that's a real memory or not? You're listening to the woman who informed her Boyfriend at half-nine this morning: "Hello. I've just been talking to a baby tiger cub on a bus."



Look at Boyfriend manfully striding off to look at the water. An astonishing turn up, as he's a self-certified aquaphobe, if there is such a word. We stood and watched the virtually non-existent waves and I dared them to touch my wellies. They declined to accept my invitation. Until I turned to go, then they got me good. Crafty buggers. Perhaps they are related to the patch of ice that made me skid over and land on my left hip yesterday. My own fault really, I was too busy wondering why the bin men had emptied the big bin but not bothered to take the bin bags on the ground around it, therefore rendering the emptying pointless, when over I went. Hot chocolate at Ethel's made it better, though.