The Hip 2

The low early morning sun penetrated the curtains and jolted my body clock to action and I took the hip for a walk on the beach. Picking my way through the steaming piles of fresh dog shit, the soft sand in the dunes was hard going but I was rewarded with the view of a growing carpet of marsh orchids nestling in a secluded hollow. The tide was on the turn and the firmer sand just below high water made the going easier. Stiffness easing, I struck out towards the castle. Overhead the sky was bright blue and clear, the uniformity only interrupted by random whisps of cirrus. But to the West it looked more ominous as the approaching wall of cirrostratus heralded the arrival of the warm front. But that was a few hundred miles away and, for the next couple of hours at least, there was the sun to enjoy. Abeam the castle the hip indicated that I had gone far enough and I turned Southeast towards Ilestone that would shortly be revealed by the retreating tide. Meantime, a large container ship appeared over the horizon silhouetted against the low sun, feeling it’s way, gingerly, along the Inner Sound between the Farne Islands and the shore. No need for the ghost of Grace Darling to fret on Longstone since the navigation system of the freighter would probably ensure that she did not share the same fate as the Forfarshire. Then back home, via an easier path through the dunes, and a welcome cup of tea. Well done the hip!