There was nobody about today, not
even the usual sea bird squawking up above to break the silence. Hengistbury
Head; a beautiful piece of land untouched by developers, is usually teaming
with walkers bracing the sea air with their pets on a lead; none today, not
even a squirrel or any other wild life that this sanctuary normally is home to.
The bitter cold North Westerly
wind carrying flurries of snow across the Solent making the scene bleak and
desolate like the heart of a winter storm.
There wasn’t the usual weekend
sailors out on the water tacking against the breeze either, it was clear of
traffic right across to Old Harry Rocks in the murky distance.
So I sat in the warmth of the
car, windows shut, heater on, burning the precious petrol that had just cost me
£1 40 a litre and felt guilty.
“Lets go home pet, you can finish
your sketch in front of the fire in comfort.”
I didn’t need telling twice.
Half an hour later, my booty
slippers on, tucked up in my favourite arm chair that has seen better days,
looking out of the window to grey heavy skies in the silence of winter, a
pencil and pad on my lap and mug of hot tea by my side with the smell of the
Sunday roast lamb drifting in from the kitchen, I realised, not for the first
time in my life, how lucky I was to be so content.
Thanks for dropping by.
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