Sunday, 7 February 2016


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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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