We went to Druridge Bay yesterday. It
was cold but bright and sunny; seven miles of golden sand and blue sea and sky
and not another soul to be seen.
We saw [honestly] a mile [?] of Brent
geese in the sky flying in formation. Hundreds and hundreds of them. February
is right at the start of their migration season when they fly to the Arctic to
breed. Such is their strength, they make the journey to Siberia in one non-stop
flight.
Lucky us.
Where do they live? On the shallow
lakes behind the dunes where the boggy ground discourages walkers and dogs.
Everyone is away now; Susan to Morocco;
my brother to Almeria; my daughter to Madeira and most of the guys to their houses in France. I have
never felt the need to find winter sun. I like winter; I like to experience the
seasons. You appreciate spring after a cold wet winter much more I think than
flying in from dry, hot Andalusia and you see sights like migrating geese every
now and then.
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