Me: Wasn’t it lovely the way the sun came out when we arrived at the beach? The sea was much bluer than usual, too.
Nell: Was it? It was certainly much quieter than it’s been for weeks.
Me: It’s the rain. It keeps people away.
Nell: It wasn’t raining.
Me: It was when we left the house. Kev and I had our rain jackets on and I even wore my Wellington boots.
Nell: I noticed.
Me: I know you don’t like the fact that they’re pink.
Nell: I do not. The next pair are going to be green like everyone else’s.
Me: Maybe I don’t want to be like everyone else.
Nell: No chance of that anyway.
Me: A writer friend of mine asked me recently if I thought I would ever start taking the sea for granted and I know that I never will.
Nell: Neither will I. We’re very lucky to live where we do.
Me: Every time we come down the hill and I see the sea sparkling in front of me I get a warm feeling of silent joy to be there again.
Nell: Don’t we all.
Me: Harriet is the same.
Nell: Harriet’s joy is definitely not silent.
Me: None of yours is. Why do you all have to bark so loudly when we drive down to the sea?
Nell: Triumphant Barking is part of going to the beach. You know that.
Me: Well, I wish it wasn’t.
Nell: How many times have you said it’s not good to bottle things up inside you? ‘Express your feelings’, you say.
Me: Yes, in writing.
Nell: We’re not going to be sitting in the back of the car frantically scribbling our thoughts down in notebooks now, are we? Try and be a little realistic.
Me: Yes. Sorry.
