This time, not a poem, or a laugh. Maybe a smile as I look at the sky. For if you look at this sky and you imagine yourself on the bus with all the old fogeys on the tour as they and we travel along, you may suddenly have the sky reverse and look like the reflection of the sun on the sand, as the sea pulls back and the tide goes out.
The day is warm and the laughter of cousins and strangers echoes up and down the strand, as cold water splashes your hot toes, the sand sticking to your hands and knees ...
... and once again you're back in the bus on a cold March day, driving along, looking at a cold sky with a low sun. But that image of warm childhood days at the beach makes you smile, and smile, and smile ...